Someday Sunny Skies
by The Almighty Cheez It
Summary: Nothing but tragedy had come from the Final Battle, not even when Harry and Hermione had been hurtled into the past. But Tom Riddle changes things, and finally, Hermione could tell that she would be seeing sunny skies again. Finished in 2006, may edit.
1. Prologue: Danger Is Coming

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out._

**Genres: **_In the beginning it is action/adventure and tragedy. Later on it is romance, drama, angst, and the action/adventure comes back. Includes minor humor as well. _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter: **_168

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**PROLOGUE

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_Hope._

_That's all I could do._

_I heard the silent but thumping bellow of threat. It wasn't the foreboding of a Voldemort sighting. It wasn't the dread of death. It was just the foreshadow of danger._

_I knew it would be unexpected; I knew it would trample over all of us like a herd of wild, untamable hippogriffs. I felt that blood-curdling feeling that made my neck hair stand on its end, which made my arms produce goose bumps._

_I didn't know what was coming. I couldn't run from the apprehension. I couldn't escape the lingering threat._

_I'd have to face it dead-on._

_I didn't know what I was up against._

_But…_

_I knew I had no choice. I had to do it. I had to complete the task, conquer the silently screaming horror that was going to entwine with my soul._

_I had to._

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That night, two completely different, yet unknowingly similar heads rose from their pillows, sweating and panting after a nightmare.

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This is the prologue. Chapter One will be posted right about…now. Please review, and I hope you like it!

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	2. One: The Terrible Beginning

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out._

**Genres: **_In the beginning it is action/adventure and tragedy. Later on it is romance, drama, angst, and the action/adventure comes back. Includes minor humor as well. _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter:** _1,899_

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**CHAPTER ONE:**

The Terrible Beginning

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Hermione Granger's amber eyes darted back and forth around the dormitory. A faint snoring sound could be heard in one of the close four-poster beds. The darkness filed into the room, disabling Hermione from seeing anything other than shadows. 

_Just a dream, _she thought fearfully. Still, this thought didn't comfort her for long. She remembered the unpleasant tingles that caused her body to shiver. She remembered the goose bumps that came with the distinct feeling of foreboding. She couldn't help but feel it at the moment as well.

She looked around the room furtively. She saw a tidbit of Lavender Brown's long, blonde hair flow out between the cracks of the close curtains. She looked away from the scarlet bed hangings and around herself after she had dislodged her own. She felt enveloped in shadows. She couldn't help but feel like the danger embedded in her dream—no, nightmare—was closing in on her now.

At that moment, she knew she needed Harry Potter. Best friend and brilliant wizard extraordinaire, he'd know what to do.

She closed her eyes tightly as she arose from her cot. She didn't care that she was barely covered in her white satin nightgown. All she knew was that she needed Harry. So, oblivious to her clothing, she grabbed her wand and rushed out of her dormitory.

Her left hand, which was not holding her wand, was clenched so tightly that her nails dug deep into her flesh. After this realization, she loosened her fist a bit, though still keeping her guard up. Her hand that was holding the wand was gripping it very steadily so that if an attacker were to creep up on her, she would not lose her wand.

She descended the stairs hastily but with extreme caution. She knew she was being very paranoid, but she'd rather be safe than sorry. Hermione, once again, glanced stealthily around the Gryffindor common room, before darting the few meters that separated her from the boys' dormitories.

After what felt like torturous eternity, she made it across the hall. She reached the door to the seventh-year boys' dormitory. She couldn't rid the feeling that she was being watched, though.

Shaking off the disconcerting feeling, she silently turned the knob on the door. Looking around, she first saw the novel that she recognized as Dean Thomas's. Shaking her head, she turned to her left, where she saw the mess that must have belonged to her other best friend, Ron Weasley. Moving forward, though still keeping the door a crack open, she tried to find the trunk with Harry's initials on it; or even the Invisibility Cloak she had used many times lying around.

She found it rather difficult to place the initialed trunk in the hollow darkness, but finally she discovered it. Cautiously, so as not to scare the boy, she opened the scarlet curtains.

Instantly, she heard a loud snore and she backed away, bearing out her wand. Glancing around, she saw Ron's wide-opened mouth and breathed out the air she had unknowingly held in.

Turning back to Harry's bed, she saw the familiar mob of black, untidy hair. She smiled slightly to herself. She could always rely on Harry's unmistakable hair to make her smile, even in the grimmest of situations. She looked away from his hair and saw his thick eyelashes kissing his under-eye skin. From his chin below, he was covered in his gold-and-scarlet quilt.

She sat on the portion of the bed that his feet weren't occupying and closed the bed hangings around them, fastening them tightly. She then proceeded to prod his shoulder with her index finger.

"Mph," came the muffled reply as he hastily turned onto his other side.

Hermione sighed. She knew it must be sometime around two in the morning, but she was frightened. And since Dumbledore's death, she didn't know who else to turn to. After a few more minutes of useless finger-prodding, she gently grabbed his blanket and yanked it off of him.

He twisted and turned, his hands unconsciously reaching out for the blankets. His eyes were still closed but she knew he was now at least a little bit awake.

"Gimme blankie," he said childishly, slurring in his tiredness.

Hermione silently giggled as she refused to give him his blanket. In all honesty, she was surprised he hadn't been reliving his nightmares tonight. She'd heard from the other seventh-year boys that almost every night, they could hear him thrashing and screaming in his sleep. Tonight, however, he seemed calm.

She leaned in, next to his ear. "Harry," she whispered. She made sure to sound soothing and welcoming so that he didn't wake up screaming. "Harry, wake up."

"Her-my-oh-nee?" he asked, still slurring. His eyelids were fluttering open and Hermione waited patiently until he fully awoke.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Don't do that, it isn't good for your eyes," Hermione nagged, grabbing his hands away from his face. "And keep it down; we can't wake anyone else up."

Suddenly, all marks of tire removed themselves from Harry's young and handsome face. He noticed Hermione's frightened and serious expression. In a grave whisper, he asked, "Hermione, what's wrong?"

Hermione pushed back the hangings, furtively glancing around to make sure everyone else was asleep. When the check was over, she refastened the curtains shut. Turning back to her best friend, she said grimly, "Harry…" and she started to explain her dream as detailed as she could.

Harry's face went from astonishment, to gravely serious, to grim, to frightened (though it didn't last nearly as long as the others). When she was finished, she noticed that his face was paled.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked worriedly. "Is it something I should be worried about?"

Hesitantly, Harry replied with, "Yes. Yes, it is. I'm glad you told me about it, even if it is two thirty in the morning."

Hermione smiled sheepishly, but soon returned to her worried state.

"Hermione," Harry said, his voice dropping even lower so that she had to strain to hear, "We need to keep our guard up—"

But the rest of Harry's sentenced drowned away at the banging sound of shouts.

There was evil cackling, until the duo could hear footsteps drawing nearer. The shouts and cackling stopped considerably, probably due to the need to be quiet. But Harry and Hermione had heard.

The deed was done.

The pair leapt out of Harry's bed; Hermione in her revealing white nightdress and Harry in his plaid slacks and oversize T-shirt.

They grasped their wands, knowing that it very well could save their life.

"Harry, is this—?"

Hermione's question didn't need to be finished. Harry knew perfectly well that she was asking if Voldemort had somehow arrived.

And he knew the answer.

"Yes."

Hermione paled significantly. Her arm shook and she felt the familiar chill overcoming her. Goose bumps claimed their spots on her arms and her neck hair stood. She was sweating and panting, but she knew what she had to do. She had to fight with Harry.

_So the dream was right. It was a true vision. Odd_, Hermione thought sardonically. Suddenly, the door burst open.

Five Death Eaters stood in the doorway, looking hungrily at Hermione and Harry.

"Well well well," the icy voice of Lucius Malfoy rang out behind the mask, "looks like we've interrupted a little pajama party."

Hermione scowled, knowing that they were teasing her more than Harry. Her dress didn't pass mid-thigh and her V-neck swooped down enough to show a fine amount of cleavage. As much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't conjure up more—suitable—clothing. It would take too much time. She just had to endure their taunts.

"Looks like it, Lucius," an unfamiliar voice agreed, chuckling and slowly raising his wand.

"You're the Mudblood that Potter is so attached to?" another Death Eater asked tauntingly. She saw his dark, nightly-blue eyes run themselves over her scarce clothing. "I see why. Being Potter's whore must be—er—fun, yes?"

"How dare you!"

Hermione didn't dare turn; she knew that voice like her own. Ron Weasley had awoken and she knew he had pointed his wand at the Death Eater who was verbally harassing her.

"Ron," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth in a warning tone.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

A light, cream-color erupted from the end of Harry's wand and right into the chest of the Death Eater. He collapsed to the floor, hugging his sides as deep red blood poured out of him. Hermione knew he would die from blood loss if his fellow Death Eaters didn't help him, but she also knew that they didn't care about his life any more than they cared about hers.

"Hermione," Harry whispered hastily as the Death Eaters scrambled around, trying to shut out the screeches of pain from the bleeding man. "Wake up Dean, Neville, and Seamus and make sure they go under my bed. They'll know what I'm talking about," he added quickly, seeing her questioning look. "Just trust me; they'll know. Tell them to contact McGonagall and Lupin, we need the Order."

Hermione nodded and as she heard an unfamiliar, but no doubt dark spell hit someone, she rushed over to Seamus's bed.

She hurriedly undid the curtains as Harry and Ron posed as distractions. She shook Seamus violently but placed her chilled hand over his mouth. "Listen Seamus," she said in a rush, trying to remain hidden from the battle taking place only feet away from her. "The Death Eaters are here, and I don't doubt that Voldemort is either. You need to get under Harry's bed and contact Lupin immediately. Can you do that?"

Seamus, eyes wide and mouth open (after Hermione had released her hand), he nodded and dashed out of her sight into the direction of Harry's bed.

She suddenly had an idea. Slapping her forehead for not thinking of it sooner, she placed a Disillusionment Charm on herself and scurried over to Dean's bed. She hastily whispered the same message, replacing Lupin's name with Headmistress McGonagall's.

After Dean was gone, she hurried over to the bed of the last—and clumsiest—occupant. "Neville!" she whispered frantically. He shook his head while his eyes were still closed, obviously hearing the battle and thinking he was dreaming. "NEVILLE!" she said a little louder, shaking the scared boy.

Once he had realized the situation and that Hermione was in front of him instead of some Death Eater, he listened carefully as she told him to warn the other members of fifth-year's D.A. club that the battle was happening and that they needed to stay clear of Death Eaters and alert the school to escape. She muttered a spell so that Neville's galleon heated up, signaling the other people with enchanted galleons.

Nodding in understanding, he disappeared under Harry's bed. Hermione, while still translucent, transfigured her nightdress into appropriate clothes, took a deep breath, and made herself visible again.

As she fought dangerously alongside Ron and Harry, she hoped frantically that the Order would appear soon.

The Final Battle had begun. Soon, they'd be facing Voldemort. They would either win or lose. Her nightmare from only an hour before was in action.

Little did she know that this was only the beginning of the terror her dream had warned her about.

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Hi. Did you like it so far? Next chapter I'll have TR's POV up as well. I hope you like this; next chapter will be longer. This was only 5 pages. Oh well.

Anyway, please review.

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	3. Two: The Only Way

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out._

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot._

**Genres: **_In the beginning it is action/adventure and tragedy. Later on it is romance, drama, angst, and the action/adventure comes back. Includes minor humor as well. _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter: **_2,827

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**CHAPTER TWO**

The Only Way

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"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione sighed with relief. Lucius Malfoy's blonde, silky hair went wild as he was thrust into the wall by the Disarming Spell. Looking at the spell-doer, she saw Lupin standing in the doorway. His face was gaunt, and there were at least seven witches and wizards behind him.

Lupin entered the dormitory, which had progressively become a battlefield within an hour. He pointed his wand at a Death Eater who Hermione recognized as Antonin Dolohov.

"Norada Fivraldi!" someone shouted. Hermione looked in the direction of the sickly voice and saw an exasperated Bellatrix Lestrange.

She had hit Ron; he was tumbling backward until he collapsed onto the floor. Hermione watched in horror as he rolled backwards, growing paler and paler. He hit the wall with a loud _thunk_. His green eyes were hidden since his ragged eyelids were closed, and his flame-red hair stood stilly on his head. He looked…

_NO_. Hermione wouldn't allow it. Her best friend was _NOT_…dead…

Hermione felt anger pierce her body. She shivered; not from fear, like before, but from fury. How DARE she do that to Ron! First she stole away Sirius; Ron was not going to be murdered by this heartless bitch as well!

Rage rippled through her body. Her brain seemed to swell with nothing but pure hate toward Bellatrix Lestrange. Because of this, she didn't register the consequences that her next actions would give her. But she didn't care. No one was going to get away with hurting her best friend.

"Crucio!" she yelled as loudly as she could. Her hand shook as she held her wand in Bellatrix's direction.

Spine-tingling screams punctured through the room. It seemed that the battle had frozen in place for a moment; everyone had risen their wands, ready to attack their opponent…yet, no curses were shouted, and no screams other than Bellatrix's were heard. Every occupant in the room turned to look at the twitching, squirming figure on the floor. Her screams had not ceased; if anything, they had grown louder and more air-raising.

"You Mudblood whore!"

Time seemed to come back. Harry was once again fighting off his two Death Eater opponents single-handedly. The rest of the Order was dueling with their rival as well. Hermione looked up, straight into the eyes of Severus Snape.

"You greasy-haired, crooked-nosed, traitorous bastard!" Hermione shot back. Harry gasped at her language, for Hermione never swore, but continued his battle. Screeches of pain were still echoing around the room, for Hermione had not lifted the curse off of Bellatrix. She was hoping she'd die from the pain, or go insane like the poor Longbottoms…

"Hermione, no!" came the voice of Nymphadora Tonks. At the moment, she wasn't fighting anyone. She then yelled, "Hermione, let me handle the git!" To Snape, she screeched: "Avada Kedavra!"

The moment he saw the green light, Snape's face contorted into one of surprise and plead. He was begging for mercy—

_THUNK! _He had hit the floor. His face still wore the expression; his black eyes were wide with shock, but they were lifeless…cold. His lips were slightly parted, showing his snaky teeth. His arms were spread out around him. Severus Snape, former Potions master for Harry and Hermione, traitorous to Dumbledore, was dead.

"Tonks!" Hermione exclaimed loudly to be heard over Bellatrix's fighting screeches. "You—murdered—him!"

"This is war, Hermione," Tonks replied, her magenta hair flying wildly as she dodged the torture curses. "What did you expect me to do? Save him?" Her face was plastered with signs of cold fury as she shot hex after hex to her opponent.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She had never seen this side of Tonks. Suddenly, the blood-curdling screams that poisoned the air stopped.

Hermione chanced a look at the woman she had just used an Unforgivable Curse on for the past few minutes—probably the worst curse of them all, if you considered pain worse than death.

Bellatrix had an expression of pure pain on her face. Her mouth was still open—unmoving—from the shouts she had been releasing. Her eyes were wide and glassy. Her black orbs were cold and uninviting, yet bearing terrible pain. She lay motionless on the floor. Hermione gasped. She had just unmercifully killed Bellatrix Lestrange!

She was a murderer. She had just killed someone in her fury. But still, she reasoned with herself, Bellatrix killed Ron.

RON!

She rushed over to the spot where Ron lay upright against the wall. She put a finger on his face, caressing his pale, milk-white skin. She poked a few freckles—she had always thought that they were cute. She ruffled his hair. She picked up his ice-cold hand and stroked it with her thumb. She began to cry.

Tears of fury and tragedy poured out of her eyelids. Her amber eyes were glossy with unshed tears. She screamed out in disbelief, disbelief that she had lost one of her best friends, disbelief that she was now a murderer. She stomped on the floor as hard as she could, resolving with a satisfying crack now in the wood.

Ron Weasley was dead. Ron Weasley was dead. Ron Weasley was dead.

She couldn't get that out of her head.

She patted his head soothingly; all the while her vision was still blurred. She was trying to convince herself it was going to be okay. She still had Harry; things were going to be fine. Suddenly, she heard another scream echo around her.

Lupin was on the floor, a now-conscious Lucius Malfoy pointing his oak wand at him.

"Finite Incantatem!" Hermione shouted, waving her wand.

Lupin shakily was freed of the curse. He stood up, obviously with great effort. She muttered a healing spell at him, and he was able to walk unshakably now. He smiled gratefully at Hermione, and at that moment, she realized that his hair was graying more noticeably, and the scratches on his face looked deeper. He was looking older than ever. He then proceeded to stun Dolohov, and while he did, he motioned for Kingsley Shacklebolt to finish him off. Hermione knew he didn't want to be a killer. _Like me_, she couldn't help but think with a jolt.

"You Mudblood whore!" Lucius Malfoy yelled, repeating Snape's words from earlier. His face was no longer taunting and smiling. He looked grim and mad. He was still recovering from the shock of her save on Lupin.

When he was yelling "Sectumsempra!" she yelled "Expelliarmus!" This resulted in Lucius getting thrown backward into the wall, again, and Hermione bleeding rather rapidly.

"Ammendo!"

Hermione looked up and caught Mad-Eye Moody winking at her before returning to his Death Eater. Hermione's bleeding stopped abruptly. She turned to see how Harry was doing. To her shock, he managed to kill someone using the Sectumsempra curse—which resulted in fatal blood loss if not attended to. Now Harry was fighting someone else.

"Oy, Death Eaters!" came a surprisingly familiar voice.

Hermione turned and her jaw literally dropped in shock. There, standing in the doorway, throwing curses at every Death Eater he could see, was Sirius Black; alive and healthy.

"Sirius!" came many shouts from the Light Side.

"Who killed Bellatrix?" he asked, all the while throwing more curses. "Since she—_Impedimenta_!—threw me into the Veil—_Stupefy_!—her death brought me back to life—_Protego_!"

"I did," Hermione said, her voice shaking slightly. Sirius stopped throwing curses and looked at her with disbelief etched onto his face.

"It's true!—Expelliarmus!" Harry agreed, disarming a Death Eater who was creeping up behind Tonks.

Suddenly, Hermione felt pain beyond pain. She could swear that her bones were being emblazoned with fire—her blood was seeping out of her—her head was on fire. She felt her heart being jabbed with unending knives. Her bones were crunching and the pain was unbearable! _Just—kill me now! Finish me off!_

A cruel, merciless laugh could be heard over her mirthless screams. Then the pain ended. She was alive. Her body was numb from the contact with the torture, but she was fairly healthy. She looked up and saw Antonin Dolohov staring at her.

"Been wanting to do that for two years, dear," he said coldly. Eyeing her, he asked tauntingly, "Where's that cute little nightdress—Ahh!"

Now he was on the ground, trembling and screaming as Hermione had done moments before. Harry was performing the Cruciatus on him.

She felt pride for her best friend; he performed an Unforgivable on him for her!

"Well, well, well…am I interrupting the fun?" Hermione, along with everyone else, knew that voice. It was malicious and pitiless. It was an unnaturally—inhumanly—high voice. Lord Voldemort had entered the room.

Hermione, not out of fear, but out of tact, hid behind one of the four-poster beds as Voldemort scanned the room. This gave her time to plan. Secretly, she muttered a shield charm on Harry. Because of it, the Dark spell that was headed for him bounced back and onto the Death Eater, sending him into unconsciousness.

Harry looked around and caught her eye. She winked and told him, with her amber eyes, that she was planning her moves. He nodded and continued the battle.

Meanwhile, Voldemort was scrutinizing the room, tsking or nodding in mock empathy. Hermione took this chance to scan the room as well. From the Light Side, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Bill Weasley, and four Aurors were dead. On the Dark Side, about seven Death Eaters were dead.

"Bellatrix?" came Voldemort's eerie voice again. He used his foot to caress his most loyal Death Eater's face. He shook his head. "Who dared kill my best follower?"

Hermione, a plan formulating quickly in her brilliant mind, stepped out from her hiding spot. "I did, you loathsome bastard."

Voldemort's head snapped in her direction. She looked unwaveringly into his blood-red eyes. He seemed to be sizing her up. He then—to her surprise—smirked.

"The Mudblood?" he asked, laughing coldly. "I don't even know your name, love."

It seemed Voldemort was expecting some witty comeback because he was completely unprepared for Hermione's shout of "Disselda!"

It was a Dark curse she had learned in a book from the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts. If Madam Pince knew, she'd have her head. Anyhow, the curse seemed useful at the moment because Voldemort, to everone's surprise, stumbled backwards and fell onto Dean's four-poster. Harry looked at her in surprise and proud astonishment, and she nodded to him.

Over the summer, he, Hermione, and Ron had, after much work, managed to destroy all of the Horcruxes. R.A.B. really had destroyed the locket, much to their relief, and the diary was destroyed back in second year. Then, the relics belonging to each of the Hogwarts founders were destructed as well. Voldemort was mortal, but since he had his creature-like appearance still, the Trio didn't think he noticed that his immortality was removed. Harry understood her nod and moved in toward Voldemort, but to both Harry's and Hermione's shock, Voldemort threw a curse at him and, since her shield charm she performed had probably worn off, he flew into the back wall. Voldemort then rounded on Hermione.

"Insolent girl!" he said furiously as he rose from the bed. He was no longer smirking; his red eyes flared dangerously. She stared defiantly back.

"You think you destroyed all the parts of my soul, did you not?" he asked firmly, his wand raised in case she should attack. He saw in her eyes the look of shock.

"Yes," he laughed, "I noticed each time you destroyed a Horcrux, you foolish girl. But," he added, his voice growing more pleased with each word, "you seemed to think Godric Gryffindor's sword was one. Why would I want a piece of Gryffindor holding my soul?" Another high-pitched, unnatural laugh. "Yes, so you destroyed a very useful object for nothing in your favor."

Hermione stared at him. Of course! Why would he want a bit of Gryffindor homing his soul? Perhaps he was bluffing…?

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione looked up to see Harry's wand eject a bright green light in Voldemort's direction. It hit him square in the chance and then the green light evaporated. Voldemort's shock subsided and he began to laugh.

"I wasn't lying, Harry."

Hermione's eyes widened. Harry had a look of such determination…such…ANGER that she wavered when she saw it. His sea-green eyes unblinkingly stared at Voldemort in defiance. His lips were tightly closed in a thin, McGonagall-like line. He was flushed with determination. If looks could kill, Voldemort would have evaporated with death.

"Ah, Potter, looking quite determined," Voldemort taunted, idly stroking his fingers. "But it will be no use. Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione screamed. She closed her eyes, then abruptly opened them, remembering that anyone might attack her. But—she didn't see Harry on the floor! Instead, a dead Lupin was on the floor at Harry's heels and Voldemort looked down on him with an unsatisfied smile.

"Foolish werewolf," he said, bearing no emotion. He used his foot to stroke Lupin's face.

"Get your filth off of him!" Hermione yelled before she could stop herself. Voldemort locked eyes with her again, and they flashed precariously.

He began to walk over to her, balancing his steps so they were rhythmic. "You're quite pretty for a Mudblood," he commented idly, reaching out his skeletally-skinny white hand to touch her face. It was cold and unpleasant.

"Don't touch me, Voldemort!" she said indignantly, staring up at him.

Suddenly, he dropped his hand. He stared into her eyes. She saw his red orbs circulate around her amber ones, and then move onto her lips. His eyes traveled her body and her hair.

"S-Skylar?" he asked. Hermione had never heard him stutter before. He showed—pain? Yes! In his eyes were pain and hurt and—heartbreak?

"No…" Hermione said uncertainly.

"Yes! You're Skylar Br—Bris—no, Bros—yes! Your's Skylar Broston!" Voldemort quieted his voice so only she could hear. "You—"

Before he could finish, Hermione shouted a spell that caught Voldemort off-guard. She then said, "Attachenum!" at Harry and a silver, threaded chain was bound around their necks.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed.

"Voldemort obviously isn't going to kill me—Harry, he looked heartbroken and he thought I was some Skylie girl or something!" Harry looked disbelieving. "I'm serious, Harry!" Hermione chanced a look at Voldemort, who was hissing at his Death Eaters to do nothing, and threatening the Order to do the same.

"Look Harry," Hermione said hastily. "I don't think he's going to hurt me if he thinks I'm that one girl, so by attaching you to me I'm ensuring that you're not hurt either!"

Harry looked doubtful, but nodded all the same.

"Do nothing!" Voldemort screamed at his Death Eaters.

But it was too late.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Sectumsempra!"

"Revasio!"

"Crucio!"

All four of these spells hit Harry and Hermione in the same exact spot. Voldemort screeched in fury. He rushed toward the pair, but it was too late.

Hermione and Harry screeched in pain as they saw themselves becoming translucent. Right before the eyes of every person in the room, they were disappearing.

At Voldemort's final furious shout, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were gone.

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Hermione heard Harry shriek in pain. She didn't blame him one bit. She felt it too. Her throat was hoarse from the cries she let out when she was being tortured by the Cruciatus, but the pain she felt right now was just as bad.

Tight binds of rugged material encircled Hermione and Harry. They were spinning around, blinded by intense shining light. The pain was excruciating. Hermione felt as though her limbs were being torn apart by rough hands. She could just feel her bones crunching below her flesh. Very similar to the Cruciatus, she felt her flesh being torn apart in certain parts, and she felt the cool watery feeling of blood. She couldn't open her eyes, it was too painful. She was sure that her head was being split apart by a jaggedly cut axe. Her lungs were closing; her heart was beating so painfully against her chest that she was sure it would break through the skin barrier.

Suddenly, Harry's screeches stopped and after a slight second of confusion, she understood why: they had fallen onto rock-hard ground.

"Aughh," she heard Harry moan with pain.

She tried determinedly to open her eyes. When she finally succeeded, she looked at her companion.

"Harry," she exclaimed unexcitedly due to her hoarseness, "you're—bleeding!"

She saw blood seeping out from under his black hair and from scars opened all over his body.

He opened his eyes slowly and looked at her. "So are you, Her-my-oh-nee."

She tried to lift her head off of the cold, stone floor but it hurt too bad. She couldn't even lift her arms up.

"Harry—?"

Before she could even finish her sentence, she passed out.

* * *

Well, another chapter down. I hope you like it…please review!

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	4. Three: Skylar and Astin

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out._

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot._

**Genres: **_In the beginning it is action/adventure and tragedy. Later on it is romance, drama, angst, and the action/adventure comes back. Includes minor humor as well. _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter: **_2, 887

* * *

_

**CHAPTER THREE**

Skylar and Astin

* * *

Hermione woke up feeling a soft, crinkly substance beneath her head. She moved her hands around her body to see what she was laying on and after a few minutes, she recognized a bed.

_Then that agonizing pain didn't kill me_, she thought wryly.

"'Mione?"

Hermione's eyelids fluttered for a moment before opening fully. She—with some effort—turned her head to see her best friend grinning sheepishly at her.

She knew he couldn't find the strength to pronounce her entire first name, because he was well aware she hated "Mione."

Either way, she said, hoarse from lack of usage in her voice, "Hey Harry."

"We in 'Ospital Wing?" he asked, looking around the white room. She decided to follow his lead. She saw white paint on the walls, with white tile accompanying them. The windowpanes were a cream color, and the beds were all white with crinkly pillows. Yes, she decided, if this wasn't Heaven, it was the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

"I think so," Hermione replied, still trying to gain her usual voice back. "Does that mean we won the battle?"

"Dunno," his reply came.

Suddenly, a girl in plum robes, who looked about twenty-eight, strolled from a side room connected to the wing. She appeared to be the matron, but what about Pomfrey?

"Ah, you kids are up," she said cheerfully. "This is wonderful. When you were found, five days ago, you were in the worst condition I've ever seen at the school."

Harry and Hermione exchanged confused glances.

"Well, I'm Madame Mayalle, and you are—?"

Harry opened his mouth but Hermione spoke first. "Before we can say anything, we need to see Professor Dumbledore. Immediately."

The matron looked startled, but after a firm look, she nodded and left to Floo Dumbledore. Harry on the other hand looked at her like she as crazy.

"Dumbledore's dead," he hissed, "What are you playing at?"

"Harry," Hermione said comprehendingly, "That's not Madam Pomfrey, meaning—well—if it's what I think it is, then Dumbledore will be able to see us."

Harry gave her another questioning look. He opened his thin-lipped mouth, but, seeming to be unable to find words, he closed it.

Just then the matron came out of her little office with Dumbledore in tow. He was definitely the same man they knew, yet he looked a lot younger. His hair was an auburn-red, and it, along with his beard, was not nearly as long as their Dumbledore's. He wore the same ridiculous-looking robes, however.

Before he even reached the bed, Harry gasped. He must have caught on to what the situation meant, because his face showed a combination of horror, shock, and graveness. What Hermione didn't know was that Harry had seen this Dumbledore in the Pensieve, back in the 1940's.

Yet, Hermione knew that something weird was up. She once again tried to lift her heavy head, but the crinkling of the pillow only increased her headache and she found she could not do it.

"—wouldn't even tell me their names, the poor dears, said they needed to see you first, Albus," the matron was saying to Dumbledore, showing a shadow of sympathy on her young face.

"Not Dippet?" Dumbledore asked airily, looking in turn from Harry to Hermione.

"I was wondering too, Albus," the matron said, looking up at him seriously.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione exclaimed, seeing the Headmaster approach closer to them. Although, with her headache, weakness, and hoarseness, her exclamation came out as a dull statement.

"Yes, that I am," Dumbledore replied curiously, wandering over to her bed and setting himself at the edge. "How can I help you?"

"Er—well—"

Dumbledore turned to his left at the sound of Harry's voice. He saw the boy looking at him sharply, as though his brain gears were working extra hard.

"Sir," Hermione interjected, giving Harry time to think up a complete sentence, "We—er—have a dilemma." She saw his eyes grow even more curious, but sharp as well. Looking pointedly at the matron, she added, "And I think it best if it was spoken to privately."

The matron, startled, huffed in indignation. She looked to Dumbledore for help, but he kept his eyes firmly on Hermione, as though sizing up her knowledge. The matron then said desperately, "But—you need to be attended to! If you don't let me fix you up—"

But her sputtered protests stopped abruptly when Dumbledore stood up and spoke, power radiating off of him like steam off of boiling water. "Madam Mayalle, if these mysterious students—I assume you are students?—want to speak to me privately, it is neither your place nor mine to deny them."

After another disgruntled huff, Madam Mayalle stormed into her office, closing the door with a louder slam than necessary.

"And she wants to _help_ our headaches?" Harry muttered sarcastically, groping his head of hair.

Dumbledore looked at him and shook his head, chuckling. "So, what's so private that the matron herself can't even listen in on?" he asked, regaining his serious demeanor.

Harry and Hermione exchanged apprehensive glances. They knew what the other was thinking: _If there's anyone we can trust, it's Dumbledore, but won't it affect time?_

Tearing her eyes away from Harry, Hermione looked at her Headmaster. He waited patiently as she struggled to form a sitting position. Her face was strained and held a painful look, while her arms shook with weakness. After a few moments of anticipatory silence, Hermione managed to sit up in her bed.

"Well sir, I guess we should start at the beginning." Hermione chanced another glance at Harry, who nodded for her to go on. "My name is Hermione Granger, and next to me is my best friend Harry Potter." She noticed Dumbledore's eyebrows rise at the name "Potter" but continued on. "We have a very, very powerful and dark wizard where we come from, much, much worse than Grindelwald. Harry lost his parents when he was a year old because he was prophesized to be the dark wizard's only equal, and they died protecting him. But, the Killing Curse backfired on him and bounced onto the wizard. So, since then, we've faced him a bunch of other times but managed to snake our way out of death. But last night, or five nights ago—the matron said we'd been unconscious for five nights—the Final Battle came, where he was going to finish him off. But then—oddly, the dark wizard seemed to think I was this other girl, and didn't decide to kill me. So I attached myself to Harry using the Attaching Spell so that Harry'd be safe too, and—er—four of his followers cursed us with fatal curses and we ended up here. So Harry and I both lost our family, our best friend, and other really important people to us. The worst part is that—you're—er—dead. You died last year from an expedition with Harry to find a Horcrux."

By the end of her story, she was crying silent tears. She didn't even realize it until she took in some breath shakily. Harry smiled weakly at her, his emerald eyes glossing over. Dumbledore, however, looked sympathetic yet grave; something only he could pull off. He looked remotely surprised when she mentioned his death and the Horcrux bit, though, he covered it well.

"I'm very sorry to hear this, Miss—Granger, is it?" She nodded. Dumbledore pat her shoulder soothingly. "I think I might just know where you are."

Hermione looked up at him, her tears blurring her vision. Her face showed her obvious confusion, but inside, she was jumping with excitement. She'd be able to go home!

…Not that there was a home to go to…

Pushing that out of her head, she caught Dumbledore's last words. "—1942."

"I'm sorry?" she sputtered.

"You're at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which I know you are familiar with. On the contrary, I have a feeling you have time-traveled, for it is September fourteenth, 1942."

Hermione's jaw dropped, and she noticed out of the corner of her wide eye that Harry looked slightly green.

"1942?" he asked feebly. Dumbledore turned to him and nodded.

"Tom Riddle," he said almost inaudibly, but Hermione caught it. Her eyes widened.

"We've traveled fifty-four years into the past…" Hermione mumbled worriedly. "And Voldemort goes to school here…"

"What aren't I catching onto?" Dumbledore asked, looking at the two students before him in turn. Hermione's face was tear-stained and blood-stained. The dry blood fashioned a dry, brown color. She had several bruises throughout her body, as well as Harry did. He looked slightly more beat up than she did, what with the scratches all over her face. Only then did Dumbledore notice his peculiar scar.

"Is that where the dark wizard--?" he asked quietly. Harry nodded, knowing what he was talking about without having to ask.

Dumbledore felt a sudden jolt of remembrance strike up his spine, sending chills throughout his body, but before he could even comprehend it, they were gone. Shaking his head, he turned to the girl who called herself Hermione Granger. He could tell that Harry was the one who dealt with action while she dealt with the knowledge.

"So, Miss—er—Granger, you say you traveled fifty-four years into the past. If that were so, are you from the year 1997?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, sir," she replied courteously. "Do you know how to get us back?"

Dumbledore studied the girl. In her amber eyes he saw pain and knowledge bulging throughout her. He saw a kind-hearted girl who knew how to use her brain. He saw someone who had lost so much, gone through so many traumas, but still tried to maintain happiness. He felt a jerk of admiration for this girl.

He smiled faintly at his new discovery. Tilting his head slightly, he said, "I'm afraid I have no options at the moment." Her face fell noticeably, and the green returned to Harry's face. "However, I will look into it with utmost concern."

Her face did not seem any happier, but she still managed to say, "Sir, what happened to our time? Are they still going on without us? Did it just disappear? Is it frozen until we return?"

"All of those are quite possible," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "however, I cannot be sure which one is correct. Now, we have important things to discuss since you're going to be with us for Merlin knows how long." He clasped his hands together jovially, as though there were not two heartbreakingly upset teenagers in front of him, in terrible pain.

"So," he continued, pacing around the Hospital Wing, "how old are you two?"

"Seventeen," Harry said, speaking for the first time in awhile, albeit quietly. Looking at Hermione skeptically, he added, "Although, Hermione's used a time-turner to attend extra classes in third year, so she might be around eighteen or something. Who knows."

Dumbledore nodded. "Must be clever, to get a time-turner, at thirteen or now," he said, tossing the praise to the side. Hermione blushed. "Okay, seventeen—seventh years." He seemed to be speaking more to himself now, so Hermione and Harry just listened. "I must sort you—though I don't think you should stay in the House dormitories. I could conjure up a private room for you two—Hogwarts has many—and you could attend classes normally with your House's schedule—yes, yes, this sounds good, right?"

Hermione and Harry were aware that Dumbledore had just turned to them. They nodded almost robotically.

"All right then," Dumbledore said happily. Surprising both Hermione and Harry, he called out loudly and clearly, "Accio Sorting Hat!"

Dumbledore and his two companions waited patiently for the Hat to make its way out of Dippet's office and into the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore resumed his pacing and whistled cheerfully to himself, while Harry and Hermione drank the last bit of their potions that would rid them of the pain.

Suddenly, a faint whizzing sound could be heard and seconds later, the Hat zoomed into the Hospital Wing, right into Dumbledore's hand.

"Right then," he said, walking over to Harry. "You first, Mr. Potter."

The Hat was placed on Harry's black-haired head and it seemed like forever before the Hat announced his place in Gryffindor. Hermione could have sworn that the Hat was about to say Slytherin before it announced the lion's house.

Dumbledore then clapped. The sound echoed throughout the white room and even after Dumbledore's hands parted the faint sound of applause was heard for a few seconds. Then, before she knew it, the dirty old hat was on her own head.

_Well, hello there, Miss Granger. I must say, I feel the sensation of a life-threatening secret inside your mind. A very—Slytherin-like secret, I might add._

At this, Hermione shook her head violently.

The Hat chuckled softly and continued speaking through Hermione's thoughts. _Well, then, not Slytherin I suppose. All Slytherins are proud to be in that house, and apparently you wouldn't be. I see loyalty, but Hufflepuff is most definitely out of the question. That leaves two choices. Undoubtedly, Ravenclaw would be wise; you are clever and very knowledgeable, I can see. But you are uncannily brave, you are. You've been through much. I declare you to be in…_

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat shouted for Dumbledore and Harry to hear. They both beamed at her, though it did cause Harry a little pain.

"Fantastic!" Dumbledore exclaimed loudly and pleasantly, grabbing the Hat. "The only problem is the name issue. We have a Potter here in his sixth year at the moment, and even though there are no Grangers, I'm sure it wouldn't be wise to keep your names."

Neither teenager said a word. They'd need new names? _Brilliant_, Hermione thought sardonically, unable to find a name she liked other than her own.

"Or I could think of some?" he offered, as though he read her mind.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I think you'd better; I don't know any names I'd like other than my own. I couldn't choose."

Dumbledore nodded and Harry agreed with Hermione. Dumbledore paced silently for a few more minutes, pondering possible names.

"Lona," he said to Hermione so suddenly that she almost stumbled off of her bed. She resumed her sitting position a few struggling moments later.

"Lona?" she repeated, lacking the enthusiasm Dumbledore had. "Why Lona?"

"It means Lioness and ready for battle," he replied, smiling down at her behind his moon-shaped glasses. "Being a Gryffindor who has endured many battles, it fits you."

"Er—yes, it does, but I'm not particularly fond of the name, sorry," she said timidly, afraid Dumbledore would force her to keep the name.

"Alright," he replied, not losing his cheeriness. "How about…Tyronica?"

"Tyronica?" she asked, still not happy or satisfied. "I can't picture myself as a Tyronica. It makes me sound like a type of dinosaur."

Dumbledore laughed, "It means Goddess of battle."

"Er—Professor, can my name not have anything to do with battle please? It would bring me unpleasant memories." Her eyes started to shed tears.

Dumbledore frowned in sympathy. "Of course dear. How about Skylar? It means eternal life, strength, love, and beauty. I think it fits you rather well."

Harry smiled. "I agree. Take it, Hermione!" he urged.

Hermione hesitated. She liked the sound of it, and she loved the meaning even more. "All right, then. I'll be Skylar—er—Broston? Does that work?"

Dumbledore nodded earnestly.

She didn't realize that her new name was the one that Voldemort had recognized her as during the Final Battle.

Turning to Harry, he said, "Now your turn, Mr. Potter. Let me think. How does the name Astin sound?"

Harry looked at Hermione, who shrugged. "Er—what does it mean? It sounds kind of funky."

"It means strong leader and trustworthy," Dumbledore replied.

"Harry, those are the two truest things about you!" Hermione said earnestly. "Take it! Astin sounds foreign and exotic!"

Harry shrugged. "Why not? I'll be Astin Mottell, then?"

Hermione started laughing. Harry indignantly asked, "What?"

"Mottell? How in the name of Quidditch did you think that one up?" she asked, still giggling.

"I—I don't know!" Harry replied, cheeks turning pink. "It just popped into my head! Not like _Broston_ is much better!"

Hermione shrugged off his comeback and laughed for a few more moments before Dumbledore made an announcement to them.

"All right, Madam Mayalle will undoubtedly come out very soon. She's overeager, in my opinion," he said thoughtfully with a twinkle in his sky-blue eyes. "Anyhow, she'll get you fixed up, and at dinnertime, come on down to the Great Hall and I'll introduce you to the school."

The two teenagers looked horrorstruck as Dumbledore waved and left the Hospital Wing.

"Finally!" came an irritated woman's voice. It was the nurse. "I thought you'd never stop talking! Merlin!"

Rushing over to childishly tuck Harry into the hospital bed, she kept muttering. "Take this potion, and you'll fall asleep. Then," –she moved to Hermione's bed and began to push her beneath the quilt-- "you can go down to dinner when you wake up."

As they gulped down the potions, they drowsily nodded. Soon, they were in a very peaceful state as they drifted off into unconsciousness.

* * *

Yay! Another chapter! Well, I'll probably write another later; I have a headache right now. The next chapter will start out in Tom's point of view…NOTE: the dream from the Prologue will be repeated as Tom's.

Well, I hope you liked it; please review! The good stuff will come soon…I just needed to organize them into the school and such…you know…

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	5. Four: Forewarned and Introduced

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out._

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot. And last chapter, I got the meanings of the names from _

**Genres: **_In the beginning it is action/adventure and tragedy. Later on it is romance, drama, angst, and the action/adventure comes back. Includes minor humor as well. _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter: **_2,846_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **The dream from the prologue is repeated this chapter, though with some slight alterations (and some not-so-slight). Thank you, and enjoy.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Forewarned and Introduced

* * *

_Something was going to happen._

_That's all he could think._

_He heard the silent footsteps of warning, the soundless bellow of threat. It wasn't the foreboding of a Grindewald sighting. It wasn't the dread of death. It was just the foreshadow of danger._

_He knew it would be unexpected; he knew it would trample over him like a herd of wild, untamable hippogriffs. He felt that chilling feeling that made his neck hair stand on its end, which made his arms produce goose bumps._

_He didn't know what was coming. He couldn't run from the apprehension. He couldn't escape the lingering threat._

_He'd have to face it dead-on._

_He didn't know what he was up against._

_But…_

_He knew he had no choice. He had to do it. He had to complete the task, conquer the silently screaming horror that was going to entwine with his soul._

_He had to. _

_-  
__-_

Dark, wavy, Polyjuice-Potion-colored shook rapidly on Tom Riddle's head as he tried to shake off the horrific dream. He looked around the green-and-silver dormitory of Slytherin to make sure nothing was lurking in the darkness.

He wiped his forehead. The sweat that was once there flew off. Tom Riddle was confused; he was fearless…scared of nothing. And yet, that dream scared the living daylights out of him.

He didn't even know what it was. He was just running down empty Hogwarts corridors, feeling his neck-hair rising and his arms becoming goose-bumped. As the words of his dream flashed before him like bright, coffee-colored lights, his feet led him to the Hospital Wing. He didn't know why. He hated the Hospital Wing! It made him feel weak.

Although, he sort of wanted to get in there, and this surprised even him, Mr. Unsurprise-able. For the past five or so days, rumor had it that there were two mysterious students sharing a private ward there. He had heard that Dumbledore found them lying in an empty corridor, wearing bloodied up clothes; suffering multiple bruises, scratches, and traces of some of the Darkest curses—not excluding the Unforgivables, of course. Word had it that they'd been unconscious since. Dumbledore was interrogated, of course, but refused to emit any comment. Without even knowing why, this made Tom Riddle infuriated.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was too late to go back to sleep; he would have woken up soon anyway. Trying to shake off the remains of the dream (and in vain), he got up and got ready for the day.

-

-

-

-

After a long morning of classes with the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs (of all people!), lunch was very welcoming. At lunch, Tom noticed that Dumbledore was missing as he spooned his tomato soup. No later than he had noticed it when Dumbledore came striding in.

He seemed more obnoxiously pompous than usual, Tom observed. He was talking animatedly to Dippet. Tom didn't know why, but he had this tingling sensation that it had something to do with the two mysterious students. His mind itched to know what he was telling the oblivious Headmaster.

"Hey, Riddle," an icy voice said, removing him from his reverie. Looking across from him, he saw a sharp face and striking blond hair.

"Abraxas," he returned curtly, pushing the bowl of tuna-and-spinach sandwiches away from him.

"Are we meeting tonight?" Abraxas asked. He pushed his infamous Malfoy hair behind him as he looked at Tom questionably.

"I said we would," Tom replied dully, gulping a bit of pumpkin juice. "I don't back out on my word, Malfoy."

It seemed that Abraxas had backed off a bit, because he sounded distant when I said, "I know, my Lord Voldemort."

Tom smirked into his goblet.

-

-

-

-

Tom was grateful, as he walked into Charms, that it was his last class of the day. He was getting exasperated with the nagging threat that the dream gave him. He was getting irritable, and even the teachers, who so openly accepted his _charming_ façade, noticed.

"Tell me, who knows the incantation for the Levitation charm? It was only discovered a few months ago, in fact," the Charms teacher, Professor Mason, asked.

To nobody's surprise, Tom's hand was lazily drawled into the air. "Yes, Mr. Riddle?"

"Wingardium Leviosa," he said politely to the teacher, who didn't notice the irritation in his eyes.

"Correct!" Mason squealed. "Five points to Slytherin! Now, I am partnering you up with someone to practice levitation, and after a minute of having your partner in the air, say Finite Incantatem to lower them."

Tom waited until the teacher had paired him with "Charisse Righsten" who was in Ravenclaw. He watched her as she gathered her things to his desk; she knew he was too proud to move from his desk.

Charisse, true to the meaning of her name, was a right beauty. She had a shimmery gold tone in her hair, and her green eyes gave her a mystical look. She was petite, but well-curved for someone so tiny. She attracted the attention of a lot of the males, but Tom didn't fall for people because they were pretty. He didn't really fall for people at all.

Once she was seated in the chair beside his, he said emotionlessly, "I'm levitating you first. I don't particularly want to be controlled in the air, thanks." With that, he cast the spell without giving Charisse any warning. Before she knew what was happening, he said the counter curse and she was harshly dropped onto the floor.

"That wasn't nice, Riddle!" she hissed, rubbing her side where she had landed on the edge of a sharp book. "You were supposed to let me fall gradually!"

"My mistake," he said dismissively, carelessly waving off her rage with a hand.

She huffed and proceeded to levitate Tom Riddle. She carelessly let him fall as well, but being a dark and clever wizard, he knew how to parachute his fall.

And when he did, Charisse resembled an angry dragon. She was hesitant to let him levitate her again, but nonetheless, she was forced to.

After a few agonizing (in Charisse's case, anyway) levitations, class was dismissed and Tom Riddle headed off to dinner.

* * *

Hermione lifted her head off of the pillow, surprised to find that her muscles were no longer weak and sore. She brushed the hair out of her face before pulling herself into a sitting position.

Glancing over at Harry, she found that he was asleep. The potion they had consumed must have had a few drops of Dreamless Sleep Draught since Harry was not sweating, making terrified noises, or screaming with pain. Hermione had known since fifth year that he had often relived his worst memories; and being Harry Potter, he had many.

She pulled off the thin white blanket, carelessly tossing it to her side. She stood up and gleefully danced around. She felt like an idiot, but she was happy to have her limbs back in working order. She hadn't felt free in a long time.

Taking her dear, sweet time, Hermione glided over toward Harry's bed. Glancing around furtively to make sure no one was watching, she leant down and kissed her very best friend on the forehead. She saw him stir, so she sat down on the edge of his bed waiting for him to wake up.

He turned toward her and, after shoving off the now-unwanted blankets, sat up, yawning obnoxiously.

"Hey Harry," she said, looking at him as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. She didn't bother telling him not to; her nagging had no effect on him.

"Hermione," he greeted tiredly, reaching for his glasses that lay askew on the bedside table. "I had a strange dream. Dumbledore told us we were in the past — _yawn_ — and we were in 1942. Isn't that funny?"

Hermione tried her absolute best to stifle a laugh. She failed. Patting him comfortably on the arm, she giggled, "It wasn't a dream, _Astin_."

Harry gasped and Hermione chuckled again. She glanced out of the window. The sky was a milky dusk color, like blue ink. She figured it was probably dinnertime. Turning back to Harry, she said, "That potion that Madam Mayalle gave us healed us, so we should go down to dinner to be introduced to the school."

"That's Hermione, all right," Harry said, snickering, "Always thinking about school."

"Oh shush, you!" she retorted playfully, smacking him lightly on the arm.

Hermione, still in her bloodied outfit she had conjured the night of the Final Battle, just Scourgify-ed her clothes.

"Hermione, turn around," Harry said, in a tone that made it seem like it was obvious. He conjured up an entirely new outfit that was currently laid on his bed. "I'm changing and I won't have this namby-pamby nonsense about you watching me."

Hermione laughed at his choice of words. _Who said namby-pamby anymore? _She thought to herself as she turned around

"Why didn't I think of that?" Harry asked as he tightened his belt on his waist.

"Because you were wearing pajamas, and I was wearing clothes," she responded with a laugh.

Harry mock-glared and, after they each had grabbed their wands from the nightstands, headed out of the Hospital Wing, best friend behind him.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked bravely, after hearing Hermione intake a sharp breath. They were right outside of the Great Hall doors, stalling for as long as they could before they entered. Judging by the empty corridors, everybody was at dinner, whether they were eating or not.

Hermione, just as bravely, nodded. Together, they pushed open the doors. At the sound of the large oak doors banging apart, all eyes in the Great Hall turned to them.

There was silence for a few moments as Harry and Hermione exchanged apprehensive looks. A few of the boys—okay, more than a few—were looking at Hermione with a look she unfortunately recognized as attraction—or, for lack of a better word, lust. Harry received similar glances from the girls, which surprised Hermione. She had never noticed him as attractive. She just didn't think of him that way. Then, so suddenly that even Dumbledore was caught off guard, whispers broke out.

"Let's just get to Dumbledore," Harry said quietly as they began to — slowly, it seemed — walk toward the High Table. Hermione nodded and clutched his arm tightly, using her other hand to grasp it as well.

Even more whispers, it seemed, broke out the closer they got to the High Table. Finally, as they stumbled by Dumbledore, the whispers died down.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise as she saw someone that was not Dumbledore sitting in the Head chair. Dumbledore was positioned directly on the man's right, which as Hermione knew, was the Deputy Headmaster seat.

Dumbledore seemed to sense her confusion, because before the strange man even stood up, Dumbledore was at their side.

"The Headmaster is Armando Dippet," he informed them in a whisper, as though there was not an entire school watching. "He'll introduce you to the school. But anything regarding your predicament, come to me. I haven't told him how you got here. I've only divulged that you were new here. I haven't provided any background story, so it'd be best to just avoid the obvious questions."

Dumbledore sat back down in his seat. Dippet moved up toward the Headmaster's podium as Harry and Hermione timidly moved beside him. Hermione had not yet removed her hands from his arm.

"Hello students!" Dippet greeted the Hall. "You are probably wondering who these strapping young folks are beside me, are you not?" At this, the Hall broke out into whispers again, but Dippet silenced them (_not as quickly as Dumbledore would have_, Hermione had thought).

"Yes, well, as odd as it seems, they are two exchange students!" Dippet continued gleefully. "They have been previously sorted into Gryffindor, and they are in their seventh year. Please make them welcome here!"

As Dippet pulled Harry in front of him, Hermione was forced to let his arm go. "Here we have Astin Mottell!" Harry grinned sheepishly at the school and waved. Hermione laughed at him in amusement, earning a few curious heads to turn to her. As Harry walked back to join her, he vaguely noticed the loud cheers coming from the females.

"And this," Dippet added, practically dragging Hermione over to him, "is Skylar Broston!"

Hermione, completely aware of the males' whistles and catcalls (but confused why; she wasn't pretty, or so she thought), tried not to blush as she revealed her perfect teeth in a smile. She mock-bowed and returned hastily to Harry's side.

"Right then!" Dippet said in a Dumbledore-like jovialness. "They will not be living in the Gryffindor common room; Professor Dumbledore has given them private quarters for personal reasons. However, they will be attending the classes that Gryffindor seventh-years attend. Alright then, Astin, Skylar; please find some seats at the Gryffindor table, and enjoy your dinner!"

It seemed that no one's eyes left them as they walked quickly toward the familiar table together. Even though they were offered seats by many, they just smiled apologetically and chose a spot at the very end where nobody was seated. Immediately, they engulfed in a rapid conversation, which made the students in the Great Hall even more curious as to what they could be talking about.

"We just have to make sure people aren't curious about us," Harry said.

"Yeah, and that's going to be so easy since no one provided a cover story for us," Hermione retorted sarcastically. "When we were walking up to the table, I heard some Hufflepuff say that rumors were going around that 'two mysterious students appeared out of nowhere donning bloodied clothes and lots of bruises.' And, that's sort of the truth."

Harry sighed and reached for her arm reassuringly. "As long as we can deflect rumors, avoid answering questions, and talk to no one but each other, I'm sure we'll be fine."

Hermione smiled and nodded, grabbing a bit of steak-and-liver pudding.

* * *

Tom scoffed at all of the attention that the new kids were getting. Sure, it was really weird that they appeared out of nowhere, especially with the rumors, and no background story, but they weren't all that intriguing. Tom was annoyed by how many people were staring at them, swiftly conversing and deflecting everyone else like a shield.

Tom, irritated by it all, looked up to see what was so interesting about Astin and Skylar. When he looked at Astin, he saw a boy of about his age. The boy had messy, charcoal-black hair that looked as though it refused to be tamed. He had round-rimmed, black glasses and shocking eyes with no color to describe them except—green like damp grass. Yes, that was it. Looking closer, Tom saw a very peculiar scar on the boy's forehead. It was shaped like a lightning bolt and very deep-cut. Tom had read about curse scars, and this definitely resembled one. Racking his brain, he remembered that the lightning bolt was the mark of the Avada Kedavra curse. That meant that the boy had survived it. Tom knew that was impossible, though, no one had ever survived the killing curse. He didn't expect any other students to find anything weird with his scar except the shape; he knew he was the only one who knew what it meant. It puzzled him.

Moving onto the girl next to him, Skylar, he saw the girl was grasping Astin's arm tightly. He saw light, earth-colored brown hair that was curly. The curls were slightly bushy, but still nothing to be ashamed of. As she was talking, Tom noticed that her teeth were stark-white. He'd only known one person with perfect teeth, and that was himself. Moving on, he noticed she had eyes the color of coffee that sparkled when she talked to Astin. She had good curves for a seventeen-year-old, he had to admit, but it seemed as though she didn't even notice her beauty.

After seeing the two talk for awhile, Tom, like so many others in the Great Hall, wanted to know what they were talking about and why they wouldn't talk to anyone. It looked as though they were trying to avoid anyone talking to them. He wanted to know why they got private living quarters.

As he saw them walk out together, still chatting, and glancing around the room slyly, his eyes locked with Skylar's for a moment. She looked—taken aback—and quickly broke the connection, talking frantically at Astin, who glanced at him for a split second before leaving with Skylar.

Immediately, Tom changed his mind. He now found these pair of students absolutely intriguing. He was going to learn why they were so secretive.

As he was leaving the Hall, he briskly walked up to Abraxas Malfoy. "I'm canceling the meeting tonight," he said simply, and sauntered out, feeling a familiar tingle in his spine.

Little did he know that the dream had forewarned him about this. Watch out, Tom Riddle…

* * *

Well, what do you think? I'm surprised I finished this one so fast. I liked this chapter because Harry & Hermione got to finally get in the public. Yay! Please review for me!

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	6. Five: Discoveries and Nightmares

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out._

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot. And last chapter, I got the meanings of the names from _

**Genres: **_In the beginning it is action/adventure and tragedy. Later on it is romance, drama, angst, and the action/adventure comes back. Includes minor humor as well. _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter: **_2,818

* * *

_

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Discoveries and Nightmares

* * *

"So, tell me one more time, what exactly happened?"

Hermione, arm-in-arm with Harry, sighed exasperatedly and over-exaggeratedly. They had just left the Great Hall together, after that intense, three-second eye-lock with the devil's child himself.

"Harry," Hermione said slowly, almost mockingly, "Must I repeat myself for the seventh time?"

"Yes?" Harry answered cheekily. Hermione laughed and playfully smacked him.

She then, in a more serious matter, looked around the corridor earnestly, making sure that nobody was around to overhear them.

Luckily, nobody was. They had just turned a corner and proceeded up a staircase. However, as soon as they got onto the fourth stair, it shook. Unlinking their arms to hold onto the dusty handrail, they were caught completely off guard. Harry groaned.

"Just great," he said sarcastically, "Now we have to go a totally different route to get to the common room. Fantastic."

Hermione nodded in agreement, but was glad that Harry had forgotten his previous request.

"So, what happened, Hermione?"

_I spoke too soon._

After another exaggerated sigh, Hermione got off of the moving staircase (which threw their route off course, but of course they knew their way around anyway). "Well, we were talking about—well, you know—and I turned around briefly, randomly looking around the room and my eyes locked onto—"

"Do you need help finding your way?" asked a cold, drawling voice.

_Sweet Merlin, _Hermione thought as she and Harry turned around slowly after exchanging an irritated glance.

Standing there was a boy with middle-length, platinum blonde hair. His eyes were cold and uninviting. He was leaning lazily on the handrail of the staircase. Hermione thought, with an inward smirk, that it would be the absolute funniest thing ever if the staircase had decided to move again.

"No, we've got it under control, thanks," Harry said with mock pleasantry as he was distinctly reminded of two very unlikable Malfoy boys. _This must be Abraxas_, he thought, somehow remembering Sirius's tapestry from fifth year.

Malfoy turned his thin, pointed pale face onto Harry. His grey eyes explored Harry's face for something remotely interesting, but found nothing. However, under his intense scrutinizing, Harry shook his head, trying to shake off unpleasant thoughts. And that's when the blond boy noticed Harry's scar.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked, looking pointedly on Harry's forehead. He seemed interested but unconcerned as he did so.

"I got it the night my parents were murdered, when I was a baby," Harry said unemotionally.

Harry's lack of emotion—anger, sadness, anything—unnerved Hermione and, noticing Malfoy's lack of, well, anything, she tugged on his sleeve.

Harry looked at Hermione and figured out what she was trying to say.

"Well, we should be on our way then," Harry said irritably. Hermione turned around, linking her arms with Harry and they walked off.

"But you're new…how do you know the way?" Malfoy asked, looking at Hermione.

"Everyone has their secrets," she said mysteriously, and tugging Harry's sleeve again, they were off, leaving one confused Malfoy in their wake to go find one of his friends and report what he had just witnessed.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked, somewhat worriedly, as they walked away from the blonde-haired-bimbo-boy.

"I—I don't know," Harry said, looking behind him for any signs of eavesdroppers. "But I remember Abraxas Malfoy was one of Voldemort's first supporters—"

"So he'll be telling Riddle about our little encounter?" Hermione asked smugly. Harry nodded.

"But I don't think he expects us to know that," Harry reasoned.

"Of course not!" Hermione agreed. "Where did Dumbledore say our room was?"

"Somewhere by the Room of Requirement I think," Harry responded, heading for another staircase. "So let's go to the seventh floor and get some rest. We have Potions first thing tomorrow."

* * *

"Riddle? Riddle!"

Tom resentfully turned around from his position in the dungeons. After glaring at a curious portrait, he faced a flushed, panting Abraxas Malfoy.

"Yes?" he drawled, idly flinging his wand between his long fingers.

"I just talked to—Astin and SK—Skylar," Malfoy said between sharp breaths. He clutched his side and leaned on the wall for support.

"Oh?" Tom asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

"I overheard part of their conversation," Malfoy said, obviously proud of himself. He paused, waiting for Tom to say something, and when he didn't, he hastily continued. "Yeah. First—first, they got trapped on a moving staircase, when Astin complained that they had to find a new route to the common room. That means they knew their way around already!" Malfoy looked absolutely delighted at knowing this "crucial" piece of information.

"I know what it means, I'm not daft, Malfoy!" Tom snapped. Malfoy's smirk faded.

"Um, yeah! Anyway, that's when I heard him ask Skylar something along the lines of, 'so tell me again what happened,'" Malfoy continued, suddenly excited again. Since he seemed to be getting to an important part, he looked around and saw nothing but some eavesdropping portraits. "Then she said something about looking around the Great Hall, and her eyes locked with someone's eyes, I didn't hear who." At that point, Malfoy seemed scared Tom was going to scold him for not finding that out. Tom, however, was just listening silently, eyebrow still raised.

"And then," Malfoy said, dropping his voice, "I asked if they needed help getting to their destination, since I wanted to find out where they're staying." At Tom's sharp look, he added hastily, "For your knowledge, of course! And then, Astin said that they knew their way fine…that's when I saw his scar! It's really odd-looking, like lightning…weird. Anyway, he said he'd got it when his parents were killed, when he was a baby. I almost felt bad for a second, but then I regained my senses." He laughed, clearly not finding anything amusing. "Then Skylar said they had to go, and when I asked how she knew her way, she just said, 'Everyone has their secrets.' What could that mean?"

Malfoy was now looking at Tom expectantly; Tom was no longer looking back. He was staring absentmindedly at a door, thinking about what Malfoy had just told him. '_Everyone has their secrets?' What the hell did she mean?_

Suddenly, he caught Malfoy's eyes widening. Out of shock or excitement, he didn't know.

"Tom!" Malfoy said gleefully, pretty much answering Tom's unasked question. It surprised him how he hadn't called him "Riddle" though.

"Yes?"

"When I first heard their conversation…Astin…he called Skylar Hermione! He said, 'Hermione, tell me what happened'!"

Tom suddenly felt a jolt of intrigue. Those two students, who mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, covered in blood and remains of Dark curses, with no background story whatsoever, had a secret. Tom was going to find it out!

With that encouraging thought in mind, he said meekly, "Thank you, Abraxas, I will talk to you later," and billowed out towards the Head common room to get some sleep, all the while his head pounded with questions he couldn't — for the life of him — figure out.

* * *

_Hermione was walking down a long, dark, secluded corridor in Hogwarts castle. She didn't know which corridor she was in, or even the floor she was on. But something in her nervous gut told her to keep walking._

_Suddenly, she broke out into a run. She heard a loud bellow that sounded a lot like an angry hiss. It was cold and cruel. With each step she took, the hissing became louder. After running without a destination to go to for quite some time, the hiss turned into an inhuman laugh._

_She could have sworn she'd heard it before, but she didn't place it. All she knew was that it drew nearer and nearer; she had nowhere to run!_

_She saw a door. She hurried over to it. No! It was locked. Suddenly, she turned her head, to try and find some escape from the haunting laugh. She saw herself looking into cruel, red, pupil-less eyes. The skin was ghost-white and she could see the red and blue lines that were blood veins pumping throughout his ugly face. He was bald, but she doubted hair would make him any better looking. He was heartless and cold; his black cloak fluttered behind his lean self as he stalked smugly and cruelly toward her, laughing manically. _

_Hermione screamed, but nothing left her mouth. She suddenly felt could air rush into what was left of her lungs. She couldn't breathe, the thing was coming at her…he was almost within reach…she had no escape…_

_Then, suddenly, everything went black. In an instant, however, she was somewhere else. She saw Harry! She was safe, she was with Harry._

_But then, as she looked around, she saw a dead Mrs. Weasley. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked around her. She was back in the boys' dormitory the night of the Final Battle._

_Bill Weasley was trying to fight off a female Death Eater, but she was too quick. With a simple jolt of green light, he lay motionless next to his deceased mother._

_Hermione gasped in horror. She heard the most blood-chilling scream. Someone was pleading for mercy; pleading for the excruciation to end. And when it finally did, she too was dead. Hermione looked at the cause and saw…herself. She had killed that horrible creature. And as she relived that moment, she remembered why she had murdered someone._

_She turned behind her and saw the corpse of her best friend, looking unnaturally weak and helpless…something he most certainly was not. She glided over to his side immediately, longing to stroke his hair, his silky, freckled face…to feel his eyes digging into hers…hell, to even hear his yells of agitation about 'spew' or her 'bloody cat'. But she could not touch him—she could not hear him—_

_Then she saw Kinglsey Shaklebolt, someone she had never really talked to but never disliked, lying on the floor, unmistakably dead. She saw Lupin unbreathing at Harry's feet. She saw the corpse of the man she'd killed using the Blood-Loss curse. She saw corpse after bloodied corpse._

_She wanted this horrible flashback to end!_

_Then she saw a smirking Voldemort head towards her. He looked heartbroken, and had it been anyone but him, she just might have felt pity toward him. Instead, she felt happy that someone had caused him pain. But then he mumbled something lovingly at her…she didn't catch what it was…he repeated it._

_He accused her of being someone by the name of—_

Hermione shot up in her bed. She felt her hair stick to her neck, as a result of the sweat that was currently drenching her. She put a hand to her face, feeling it, caressing it. She was making sure she wasn't covered in blood.

To her relief, she was perfectly blood-free, even though her face was covered in hot tears. She'd been crying in her sleep, reliving the hell that had caused her so much pain.

She breathed in deeply. _Don't panic Hermione_, she told herself. _You're inside Hogwarts. Nothing can happen to you here._

_But that's not so true_, another part of her brain reasoned. _You considered Hogwarts safe that night, and look how that turned out._

Hermione shook her head furiously. She looked to her left, and despite the darkness, she could briskly make out the shadow of Harry Potter.

There, she was safe. She had Harry with her. She was safe with Harry.

_The monster is in the walls, _she couldn't help but think_. The monster that caused you so much pain is currently a few floors away from you, soon to become the Dark Lord…_

Hermione screamed at the repulsive thought. Sure, she had known that Tom Riddle was here, obviously, and she had clearly known his fate, but they had never entered her mind together, with _that_ phrasing…

She looked at Harry worriedly, positive that her scream had woken him up. But she needn't to worry; he was thrashing around, entangling himself in his sheets. He was screeching (_how could she have not heard it?_ She wondered) and she caught bits of his words. "Sirius!" "Cedric!" "All my fault!" "Not Ron!"

Hermione knew that he was taking a trip down memory lane. She had heard from the boys of her time that Harry would barely go a night without doing so. She had even heard it firsthand, though faintly, a couple of times over the summer if she was at the Burrow with the Weasleys. It pained her that he blamed himself for all the horrors and deaths. It wasn't his fault! It was Voldemort's!

She rushed over to him, for she feared that if he were to entwine himself with the blanket anymore that he'd suffocate. As soon as her delicate hands touched his sheets, she felt a pool of sweat. Poor Harry.

She patted his head, despite its wetness, and petted him soothingly. She stroked his face, and gradually, the screeching died down until all was silent. She thought for a moment if she should leave his side, but, worried that he'd start at it again, declined the temptation.

She whispered soothing words in his ear ("It's okay, Harry" "I'm here.") while sliding her hand up and down his arms consolingly. Glancing at the wristwatch that she wore, she saw that it was five-thirty in the morning, hence the darkness.

She placed a kiss on his forehead, knowing it would calm him down until he awoke. She, of course, had no romantic feelings for him whatsoever, but that was what was so great about their relationship: platonic friends that they were, they still felt comfortable using intimacy for means of comfort.

Hermione, after one last look at her friend, lit a few candles around her side of the room. After that, she walked over to the trunk that Dumbledore had provided and grabbed a white, button up T-shirt. To her dismay, it was a size to small. _Brilliant_, she thought, _I have to leave the top two buttons unbuttoned. Great. _However, she couldn't blame Dumbledore for not knowing her shirt size; she just had to deal with it. She'd be keeping her robe CLOSED.

After putting on her shirt, she pulled on her skirt. She was surprised to see that it was slightly—not much, but slightly—longer than the skirts of her time. _They must have gotten a centimeter shorter each decade_, she thought with a snicker as she pulled it over her legs.

Then, with a smile, she pulled the robe with the familiar Gryffindor crest sewed onto the breast. She clasped it shut in the front to cover her shirt. After pulling on some white socks, adjusting her tie, and unwillingly putting on a pair of '40-style loafer shoes, she walked over to the mirror to comb her hair.

Or attempt to.

She knew her hair was nothing to be ashamed of, but it was still bushy and that annoyed her. She wasn't a giggly feminist though, so she didn't bother with the numerous spells that would make her hair something to be envious of. She just settled on a ponytail with a few escaping, curly tendrils lofting around her face. Grabbing her black-cherry flavored chapstick, she applied it carefully onto her lips.

After she looked presentable, she saw that her watch read six-fifteen. Had she really taken that long to get ready? She didn't believe it! Either way, she walked over to Harry's bed and shook him awake.

"Harry, wake up!"

"Temmoremittes."

Somehow, Hermione was able to translate that into "Ten more minutes." Perhaps it was learning Ron's-Mouth-Full-of-Food-Language after seven years?

_Ron…_

"No, Harry," she said sternly, ridding her mind of the picture of Ron's pale, dead body. She was pulling the blanket off of him. He moaned in displeasure.

"Please, Her-my-nee?" he asked, grabbing recklessly for the blanket. She held it firmly and watched in slight amusement as he squirmed from the cold, his eyes still tightly shut.

"You know Harry," she said in a drawl that'd make any Slytherin proud, "If you just got up and dressed, you wouldn't be cold."

Harry finally and reluctantly, as she could tell, opened his eyes. Just to spite her, he exaggeratedly rubbed his eyes.

"Oh stop it!" she said, as she smacked him with his own pillow.

"Hey, that wasn't nice!" he said, reaching (out of habit) for his glasses. As he put them on, he saw that Hermione was no longer sitting on the edge of his bed, but was rummaging through his trunk for his white shirt, red-and-gold tie, and black Levi's.

"That's my stuff!" he said indignantly as he leapt out of bed.

"Technically, it's Dumbledore's," Hermione said absentmindedly, shoving his clothes into his arms. "Get dressed while I brush my teeth. Tell me when you're done; I don't want to come out when you're half-naked."

Harry reddened slightly as she left for the bathroom.

* * *

Here's good old chapter five. I hope you liked it. Next one will be up soon!

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	7. Six: An Encounter With Tom

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out._

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot. And last chapter, I got the meanings of the names from _

**Genres: **_In the beginning it is action/adventure and tragedy. Later on it is romance, drama, angst, and the action/adventure comes back. Includes minor humor as well. _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter: **_3,677_

**CHAPTER FIVE**

An Encounter With Tom

"Come _on_, Harry!"

Hermione, her schoolbag tucked over her left shoulder, was at the door to their bedroom. Tapping her foot impatiently, she checked her watch.

"If we don't get to breakfast soon, we're going to have to miss it!" she hissed at Harry.

He, meanwhile, was hopping one-legged, his black hair swinging in and out of his face as he tied his shoelace.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming!" he said moodily as his schoolbag kicked him in the side. Just as he was finishing his shoelace and headed toward the door and angry Hermione, he fell over right onto his arse.

Hermione, though desperately wanting to laugh as he rubbed his arse where he hit it, kept her irritated face. "Harry, get _up_ off of your arse and let's _go_!"

"Oww…," Harry mumbled as he picked himself up off of the ground.

As soon as he was on his feet, Hermione, without waiting for his consent, tugged on his hand and pulled him out into the hallway, slamming the door to their room behind her. She muttered a spell under her breath to make the door disappear so that no one would find it and she then let go of Harry.

"A little impatient, aren't we?" he asked rhetorically. In response, she hissed menacingly.

For a few more moments, they walked in silence. Hermione noticed, as they passed, the tapestry that led to the Room of Requirement. She wondered idly if anyone in this time knew about it, seeing as it was a big hangout in her days. _No, don't think about those days…_

They didn't exchange a word until they reached the main floor. Portraits whispered as they passed, probably missing the announcement of the two new students. A lone teacher roamed the halls, and glared at them incessantly until they turned a corner. Hermione hoped she would not have that teacher. A clique of fifth-year girls giggled at Harry, pointing and whispering. Protectively, Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him along. The whispers stopped immediately and disappointed and jealous faces replaced the joyous ones. Harry smiled gratefully at her. As soon as the girls were no longer within sight range, Hermione dropped his hand.

When they were but a few corridors away from the Great Hall, Hermione started conversation. "You were the one who's been here in the Pensieve, Harry; do you know who teaches Potions?"

Harry snickered. Hermione looked confused, but her jaw dropped with dissatisfaction as Harry, between laughs, told her who.

"We have to deal with Slughorn for another year?" Hermione groaned.

Harry laughed even more. "Yes, but don't worry, Hermione, I don't have my little Half-Blood Prince to help me."

Hermione smiled. "Good, you can do the work on your own!"

"Or I can ask you to help me," Harry suggested hopefully.

Hermione smiled in mock sweetness. "But Harry, then you'll never learn."

"You're just saying that so you can be the best in Potions," Harry retorted good-humoredly. "But beware; I hear Riddle's the school's best!"

Hermione dismissed the warning with a careless wave of her hand. "He won't know what hit him when I answer every one of Slughorn's questions!"

They both laughed heartily as they entered the Great Hall. Like the night before, everyone turned to look at them, curious to see the "new kids" better.

They walked over to the Gryffindor table, completely oblivious the stares they were attracting as they continued to laugh. Just as they were about to sit down in a corner of the table where nobody was sitting but a few lowly first years, a voice rang out, "Hey, Astin, Skylar! Want to sit with me?"

Harry and Hermione, after a few seconds (they still were not used to their names), turned to face a boy with untidy black hair like Harry's, round, almond eyes, and square glasses. He had a similarity to Harry, but unlike his father, this boy wasn't identical to him.

Harry and Hermione both knew instantly that this was a Potter. Neither knew his first name, but they exchanged hesitant expressions; they didn't particularly want to talk to anyone but each other. The sooner they could get home, the better.

"Er—" Harry said unsurely. He turned to Hermione for help.

"Thanks for the offer, er—?" she asked, clearly inquiring his name.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the boy said, turning a faint pink. "I'm Simon Potter."

_Simon, so that's Harry's granddad's name_, Hermione thought. Harry turned a considerable shade of green and looked away, leaving Hermione to deal with the speaking.

"Well, thanks for the offer Simon," Hermione said, fearing that if Harry talked he might hurl, "but—er—we aren't really very interesting and—well…"

Hermione blushed a bit as she couldn't find a fit excuse not to sit with the cheerful boy. He looked unabashed.

"Nonsense!" Simon exclaimed. He motioned with his hand to take the seats across from him. "Come on, sit down! It won't hurt to make a few friends!"

_If only you knew._

"Besides," Simon continued, "you haven't spoken to anyone since you came here!"

Sighing in defeat, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and they took seats next to each other and across from Simon, a girl, and another boy.

"This is my friend, Jim Longbottom, and his girlfriend, Sharon Hart," Simon said, pointing to each of his friends. Hermione smiled out of force and Harry nodded his head weakly.

"Her—Skylar Broston," Hermione said quickly, shaking each of their hands. Harry nudged her with his leg under the table, silently scolding her for her slip-up.

"Astin Mottell," he said in a small voice, still not looking up.

"Nice to meet you both," Sharon said, pushing her short, black hair behind her shoulder. "You know, the school's fairly interested in you two. See, we've never had new students before."

Jim nodded. "And people claim you appeared out of nowhere. Some of the wildest rumors were the ones that said you were found covered in blood and bruises and that Madam Mayalle saw Dark curse remains all over you." He laughed in a disbelieving way.

Hermione coughed and Harry bowed his head even lower, poking his eggs with his spoon. Neither of them noticed the look exchanged between Sharon, Jim, and Simon.

"Is it true then?" Jim asked curiously. Hermione nodded solemnly.

"Oh—I'm sorry," he said, turning a Ron-worthy crimson. "I—I didn't know…"

"Don't worry about it," Harry squeaked, forcing himself to take a bite of his eggs.

Jim didn't say any more.

"Well, we—er—need to get to Potions, so we'll see you later," Hermione said quickly, not caring about her rudeness as she yanked Harry out of his seat. The three Gryffindors watched as they left the Great Hall, as did a few other students.

One in particular noticed the hasty exit and the paled expressions on their faces. One was going to find out why these two mystery students distanced themselves from the rest of the school!

* * *

_**RIIIIIIIIIIIIING!**_

_Blasted, bloody, clock, _Tom thought bitterly, using a lot of colorful language in his head. Reluctantly, he tore off the blankets and opened his bed hangings. He reached over and smacked his alarm clock (non-Muggle, of course) rather violently.

He had the temptation to yawn but resisted it. He threw his legs over the side of the cot, grunting as he bent his head over his chest. He sat there for a few moments; waking up slowly, sitting on the side of his bed.

When he finally lost his tire and stood up, he glanced around the rest of his dormitory. He saw the rest of his lazy, dunderheaded dormmates as he took off his short. He had a nice, toned body, but not from Quidditch. He hated the sport. No, his muscles were from the working out he did every so often. Granted, he didn't do it so much, but when he did, he didn't stop. He needed to be in shape when he became Lord Voldemort.

He grabbed a plain school shirt and slid it over him, not even flinching at the obnoxious, sleepy snort heard in the bed beside his. He was used Gerard Nott's unconscious noises and he wasn't fazed in the slightest.

_They would think I'm crazy if they knew I'd gotten up at five-forty-five,_ he thought, throwing off his slacks and grabbing his school pants.

Suddenly, Malfoy stirred. Tom, not wanting to be seen in an unbuttoned school shirt and boxers with serpents on them, hurriedly pushed up his pants. He was by no means shy, but exploiting his not-so-public areas, boxers or not, wasn't his idea of fun. He was finishing up the zipper when Malfoy's blonde head appeared from between his curtains.

"Wad you doin' up, Riddle?" he asked, half-yawning. His eyes weren't even open, but Tom knew he was smart enough, even half-asleep, to figure out that only Tom would wake up so _bloody _early.

"Getting dressed," he replied tonelessly, feeling his hair. It was perfectly in place. It always was.

"It's not even six," Malfoy exclaimed, struggling to open his eyes, but acting as though they were glued shut.

"I know. I have things to do, you know," Tom said. He tied his shoelaces and grabbed his bag. "See you in Potions, Malfoy," he said, striding out of the dormitory door. He could have sworn he heard a snore emit from Malfoy's mouth.

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At exactly six o'clock, Tom Riddle was out on the grounds. He was at a place that he was sure nobody knew about. It was just off the Forbidden Forest. If you passed Hagrid's hut by a few yards, there would be a line of green, pricking bushes, around twenty feet high. At the end of the line was the Black Lake; the part that was too deep for anyone to swim in.

However, Tom knew a spell that made the bushes shrink for a minute. Tom had enough time to hop over the bush before it grew back to its size.

And Tom had found a cozy alcove. It couldn't fit more than six people, but it was dark, secluded, and, best of all, unknown. It was a great place to come out and think. Or to practice things, like the Dark Arts. He had left a potion here to simmer; when drunk, the potion allowed the drinker to enter a piece of his soul into the object that he would make a Horcrux. It involved exactly fifty-seven unicorn hairs, however, which was very rare. Very luckily, Tom had found an innocent unicorn a week before, and grabbed a collective chunk of its hair before sprinting off. Today was the day he'd be adding them. Unfortunately, the potion still wouldn't be ready.

He tried to count the unicorn hairs in his hand, but the wind kept blowing some away. Looking around him, he noticed that the sun had risen and that the breeze was a warm one. He looked around his little cave, noticing that the only light came from the entrance. He was satisfied with it; it was not too bright, yet not too dull.

Sighing from frustration after more than ten of the unicorn hairs had blown away, Tom picked up the cauldron of simmering potion and muttered a spell. Instantly, the liquid vanished. As it did, he mentally kicked himself. It had taken him months to research the potion, not to mention the weeks it took to brew.

He kicked a rat that scattered about the cave, making it inch into unconsciousness. He didn't care, all he could think was, _Stupid rat, it was your fault._

Yeah, as if _that_ was true. He quickly whispered, "_Visilio_" at the bushes, enabling him to see through them. He didn't see anyone around, so he quickly shrunk the bushes and hopped over them. He straightened himself up and patted down his clothes and hair.

Hastily, noticing that it was already forty-five minutes past six (where had the time gone?), he hurried to breakfast.

He took a seat at the Slytherin table where no one was sitting. As a matter of fact, hardly anyone was at his table at all, minus a few third years that were goggling at him. He brushed a hand through his hair idly.

As he spread marmalade onto his toast, he glanced at the teacher's table. Only the Herbology teacher and Muggle Studies teacher were missing. Neither held much importance to Tom; he didn't take either of those classes.

He looked at Dumbledore. Surprisingly, he wasn't talking cheerily to other teachers; he was looking, with a twinkle in his eye, toward the Gryffindor table.

Feeling that he knew exactly what Dumbledore was looking at, Tom followed his gaze. He wasn't disappointed. There were the two new students. Astin and Skylar. The mysterious additions to Hogwarts. The students with no story.

_Where were they from?_ Tom asked himself as he bit his toast. They knew their way around the school, they didn't stay with the other students…Dippet didn't provide a background about where they were from. Tom had the distinct impression that Dippet didn't even know where they had come from. And judging by the fact that the old, loony, twinkle-eyed Transfiguration professor knew _everything_, Tom knew that he was the only one who knew where they really came from, besides themselves, of course.

He also distractedly noticed, as he was watching them intently, that when that Potter boy asked them to sit down, Astin turned practically green and Skylar looked uneasy. So they were social outcasts as well? Tom wondered inwardly with a smirk. He saw as they reluctantly sat across from Potter, Longbottom, and the Mudblood Hart. Longbottom started talking to them, laughing heartily. Tom saw Skylar clear her throat uncomfortably while Astin looked at his plate. Hart, Longbottom, and Potter exchanged looks as the two new students paled. They hastily got up and rushed out of the Great Hall.

_Wonder what that was about, _Tom thought, pushing his unfinished toast off of his plate as the third year girls took seats around him. _Oh boy.

* * *

_

"I still can't believe we have to have Slughorn again," Hermione moaned upon entering the Potions classroom. She and Harry took a seat in the middle of the classroom. Looking around, Hermione noticed that almost their entire class, minus Riddle, were in their seats and looking at them.

"Yeah, but since he doesn't know who I am he won't make me join his little club," Harry said smugly, laughing as the realization dawned on Hermione's face. He laughed harder and, as she banged her head lightly against the desk, said, "But don't worry, Hermione, your brilliance is a sure pass to get you in."

Hermione laughed and playfully smacked him on the arm. He threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Shush, you," she said, trying to be threatening, but the large grin on her face ruined her intimidation.

Neither were aware of the class looking at them. It was clear what they were thinking: _How can they be so talkative and happy with each other but so isolating towards everyone else? What do they have to hide?_

Then Tom Riddle entered. All heads turned as he arrogantly strode in, all heads, that is, except Harry's and Hermione's. They were still busy laughing and enjoying each other's company.

Suddenly, the room was silent. The change was instantaneous and amazing; there were giggles and mock-"ow"s from the Golden—er—Duo, and then, everything went deathly silent.

Tom Riddle had just seated himself right next in between Harry and Hermione, shoving her bag off of the chair separating them.

"Can I help you?" Hermione asked harshly, grabbing her bag off of the floor and scowling at Tom. When he sat down, it was as if he totally blocked out their presences; he had merely unloaded a quill, piece of parchment, and a vial of ink from his back and placed them on the table, ready for instruction.

At Hermione's icy question, Tom turned his head. "Excuse me?" he asked quite rudely, as if daring her to question him.

"I asked if I could help you with something," Hermione repeated, as though talking to a six-year-old. "I was only wondering what you wanted. It must have been absolutely urgent since you felt the need to push my bag off of the chair and interrupt my conversation with H—Astin," she added coolly, ignoring her slip-up, making it seem she hadn't done it in the first place.

Tom raised a brow, his face remaining impassive. On the inside, however, he was fuming. _No one had the right to talk to him like that!_ He thought heatedly. He was about to retort when he heard _Astin_ snort beside him.

"And may I ask what is so funny?" Tom asked tonelessly, turning away from the brunette and over to the boy on his other side.

"No, you may not ask, Riddle," Harry said, almost dying of laughter inwardly. Hermione's tell-off was priceless. The look on Riddle's face was great. Hermione chuckled softly at Harry's wit.

"How do you know my name?" Tom asked, looking at the boy before him suspiciously.

"Oh, that's right, we shouldn't know your name because the Head Boy's name would most certainly not come up in a conversation with two new students," Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes and placing her quill and parchment on the desk.

That comment broke all of Harry's self-control. He burst out in uncontrollable laughter. This caused quite a bit of attention from the class. Oblivious to it, as always, Hermione started laughing too. Soon they were both clutching their sides and laughing very hardly. Hermione's face was flushed, as was Harry's, and tears of amusement were leaving their eyes.

Tom scowled. _It must have been very confusing to the rest of the class to see two new students laughing immaturely and nonstop while the great Tom Riddle sat in between them being surly_, he thought acrimoniously. When he had had enough of their incessant giggles, he said coldly, "Would you mind shutting up?"

Harry and Hermione gradually gained their self-control back. Good thing, too, for Slughorn had just strolled into the room.

"Good morning, class!" he said over-cheerily. Eyeing the parchment and quills on everyone's desks, he said, "Parchment and quills away, today! We're going to be brewing a potion."

After the class had stuffed their supplies back into their bags, Slughorn resumed talking. "Yes, today we are working on the Shimmer Potion. Can anyone tell me what it is used for?"

Tom lazily drew his hand into the air, knowing fully well that he'd be the only one that Slughorn would let answer the question. What he wasn't prepared for, however, was when a female hand next to him rose excitedly into the air.

"Oh, this is a pleasant change!" Slughorn said happily, clasping his hands together and chuckling. He glanced between Hermione and Riddle, who was now holding his hand high into the air, in determination to answer the question before the ever-so-ignorant girl next to him.

"Let's let Miss Broston answer, see what she knows," Slughorn said, resolving in a scorning Tom and a haughty Hermione. Harry smiled as he saw Tom's loathing expression while he watched Hermione take in a deep breath.

"Well sir," she started slowly, gaining her momentum, "the Shimmer Potion is a potion that can be used skillfully but selfishly as well. Because of its vary rare ingredients, it takes up to two months to prepare, excluding the simmering. When used, it works as a sort of charm to attract the attention of others. It's sort of like the same affect that the Veela has," she added, smiling at Harry, obviously remembering Fleur Delacour. "It can be useful in a duel, for if someone uses this potion then the others will be attracted to the user hormonally and therefore will be distracted from the battle. However, some people use it selfishly to gain attention from the opposite sex."

Hermione beamed proudly, exchanging another glance with Harry. They were giving off the same message: _New kids: 1, Riddle: 0._

Tom looked at the girl beside him with utmost dislike. He saw the shocked expressions on the faces of not only his peers, but his professor as well, and he didn't like it one bit. He was the one who knew all the answers, not some new girl who was practically a walking encyclopedia. He noticed Astin look at him smugly, almost as if he expected this reaction.

Looking at the girl herself, he saw that her face glowed with a red blush. He knew she could feel the intense stares that the class was giving her. Finally, Slughorn spoke.

"I've never heard a better explanation of that potion in all my years of teaching, Miss Broston! Well done! Fifteen points to Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindors cheered while the Slytherins scowled, feeling a strong dislike for this girl.

"Now, does anyone know why the ingredients are so hard to find?" Slughorn asked.

Before Tom even moved his hand, Hermione's was waving in the air. Slughorn looked slightly dumbstruck, but motioned for her to give the answer.

"Well, the vampire blood is very hard to obtain, since vampires are very alert and, in some cases, vicious people. Aside from that, the gut of a Seeping Seedwoven is nearly impossible to get since the plant itself is bordering extinct," Hermione replied.

"I—yes—five points to Gryffindor! Miss Broston, may I see you after class?" When Hermion nodded, he added, "Yes, yes. Now, let's let Mr. Riddle answer something for a change, eh?"

Hermione could feel Tom bristle beside her. She knew he was absolutely angry when Slughorn had said "for a change" and she couldn't do anything but chuckle.

However, when the bell rang, Hermione and Harry exchanged looks. As Hermione walked toward the teacher's desk, she and Harry both knew why he wanted to talk.

He was going to ask her to join the Slug Club. Joy…

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Yay! Another chapter! Did you like it? I did. Please review!

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	8. Seven: Slytherin Pride Is Gone

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out._

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot. And last chapter, I got the meanings of the names from _

**Genres: **_In the beginning it is action/adventure and tragedy. Later on it is romance, drama, angst, and the action/adventure comes back. Includes minor humor as well. _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter:** _3,476

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**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Slytherin Pride...Is Gone

* * *

After Harry's unhelpful snort of amusement, Hermione watched him leave the classroom, shutting the door behind him. Hermione, as slowly as she could manage, turned around, away from the dusty wooden door.

She walked past the desks that the Slytherins had before occupied; past her own desk in the center of the room, where a drop of ink lay on the rough floor. Hardly aware that Slughorn was looking at her, slightly impatiently, she took her time in approaching his desk.

Finally, she stood a good distance away from him, yet close enough to seem un-intimidated by his rather large figure. "Yes, Professor?" she asked casually, fingering her bag that clung to her shoulder.

"Yes, Miss Broston, hmm," Slughorn said, seeming to search her. His eyes roamed her body, and Hermione grimaced. What was he, a pedophile? But after a moment of scanning her, he said, "Yes, you seem to hold quite a bit of brilliance," and Hermione instantly felt foolish for thinking he was looking at her in any way other than a proud teacher would.

"Oh—er—" she said lamely, not really sure what to say. "Is there something in particular you wanted, sir? In case you haven't noticed, I have Arithmancy in but a few minutes." She came off slightly snootier than she intended, but she was growing impatient, absentmindedly tapping her loafered-foot on the cement floor.

"I can write you a note, Miss Broston," Slughorn said cheerily. That aggravated Hermione. She was getting very annoyed. "I don't know if you know this," he began, and Hermione winced, knowing exactly what his next words were going to be, "but I myself have formed a rather—popular—club that is known as the Slug Club.

"You see," he continued, "I only accept the most brilliant witches and wizards into the Slug Club."

_More like the most pureblooded and famous_, Hermione thought wryly, but said nothing.

"And after your display of brilliance in my class moments ago, I'd like to ask you to join." He then laughed, as though about to divulge a secret. "See here, purebloods, who most definitely show the most competent marks, are the most popular members of the club; not a lot of Muggleborns make it in." He sounded sympathetic, but Hermione could swear she heard _Mud_ before he said _Muggleborn_. She shook in rage.

"I mean, let's be honest, we are, after all, two intelligent pure-blooded wizards," he droned on. _If only you knew_, Hermione thought angrily. "Muggleborns aren't the brightest, you've seen those Hufflepuffs."

"Yes, and even though Tom Riddle is quite the clever one—" Hermione cringed as she said it, but she had to make a point, "—he is, after all, part Muggle."

Slughorn's cheery smile faltered. He seemed suspicious at how she knew such information. Suddenly, Hermione felt incredibly stupid. She wasn't supposed to know! However, Slughorn just said, "Yes well, clearly his wizard blood shines more in his veins." However, it was said with flickering confidence. "We are going off topic however," he chuckled lightly. "So, Miss Broston, will you join?"

Hermione slammed her fist into Slughorn's desk in rage. He seemed much taken aback with her action. He looked from her fist, to the dent in his wooden desk, to her eyes, which he literally recoiled at what with the fire flashing inside them.

"You listen here, Slughorn," Hermione said calmly and softly, which scared Slughorn more than if she had yelled. Hermione didn't even care about her impoliteness. "Let's go step-by-step on why I won't join your little Slug Club, shall we?"

Slughorn looked astonished that she had declined his offer. Nonetheless, he nodded.

"Well, let's see," she said, turning away. She idly walked toward a random desk in the center of the classroom and sat down on top of it. "I'll start off with your little Hufflepuff comment. One of my best friends, before he_ died_, that is," Hermione said bitterly, thinking of Neville and how he had died during the battle protecting one of the Aurors, was a Gryffindor, though everyone thought he belonged in Hufflepuff. Let me be honest, I agreed. He was plain, no one special, no special House qualities. However, he was a sport for Herbology, best in the class. And he fought alongside me and my best friends in the most gruesome battle you can imagine, Professor. He may not have been a Hufflepuff, but he was as good as, and he was an amazing person. So think before you go insulting any Hufflepuffs because, quite frankly, they are amazing people."

Slughorn shook his head guiltily. He recoiled at her harsh tone and before he could say anything, Hermione continued.

"What next?" she asked meanly. "Your distasteful prejudice for Muggleborns? I'm sure it would interest you to know I am a Muggleborn, wouldn't it, Professor?" she asked with fake pleasantry. Slughorn hung his head.

"Maybe we should end this now, I mean, you've already declined—" He began, laughing nervously.

"No!" Hermione shouted so suddenly that Slughorn toppled off of his chair. In her rage, Hermione didn't even laugh. Intimidating him, she slowly walked over to him until she was but two feet away from him. "You better get over your prejudice for those who are blessed to be Muggleborn. It helps us live in both worlds! We care more about the people than the blood in them. We don't think we are God's gift to the earth! And neither are the pureblooded idiots who think they are!" She slammed the already-dented desk with her fist yet again. "And Tom Riddle!" She paced the classroom now. "He is nothing but a foul, Dark-Arts-loving, cruel, heartless little bas—"

For the first time during their meeting, Hermione blushed at her use of bad language, although she didn't complete the word.

"Listen," she said, shaking off her blunder. "The point is, I will not join the club of a biased professor who offensively spites against Muggleborns and Hufflepuffs. Good day Professor, see you Wednesday."

With that, Hermione strode out of the classroom, leaving a befuddled and somewhat scared Slughorn in her wake.

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Harry had been waiting outside the classroom door for her. He paced the deserted corridor when he heard Hermione raise her voice a few times. He gasped when he heard a pound on wood, and he became worried when Hermione didn't emerge from the classroom within a few minutes. When she finally did come out, Harry smiled, but it slid off of his face the moment he saw Hermione's anger-flushed expression.

"Her—Hermione?" he asked tentatively, for she didn't seem to acknowledge his presence. She jolted for a second and turned to him, her face blank.

"Yes?"

"Er—" Harry shifted uncomfortably.

She sighed. "I declined, I yelled a bit, I insulted him, I punched his desk a few times, and I insulted Tom Riddle."

She walked down the corridor as Harry choked from both laughter and shock. Hermione Granger, excellent student extraordinaire, doing all of that in the presence of a teacher, much less TO a teacher? Hmm.

"What's that in your hand?" Harry asked instead of speaking what just ran through his mind, pointing at the small bit of parchment in her hand as she walked a few strides faster than he.

"A note to excuse me from Arithmancy," Hermioe answered. "But you have Care of Magical Creatures, so you'll have to deal with being late." Hermione smirked at Harry's crestfallen look.

"Fine," he said. He grabbed her and pulled her into a hug, kissed her cheek, and said, "See you in Charms," before dashing in the opposite direction.

Hermione, daringly for someone like her, slowed her pace as she walked toward the Arithmancy classroom. She was already late, so why fuss? It was very unlike herself, but she wasn't in her brightest state at the moment.

She rounded a few corners and walked up a few stairwells before she reached the classroom. Straightening her Gryffindor tie, she pushed open the door and after the loud crash of the door banging into the wall, stepped inside, with all eyes on her.

She was getting quite used to that, actually.

She held up her head confidently but not snootily as she avoided all gazes she attracted and walked toward the teacher's desk, before she stopped dead in her tracks.

It was the same evil-looking teacher she'd seen after she'd diverted all the third year girls away from Harry the previous night. His eyes, which were grey and distant, flashed an abominating red for a moment. It was so swift that Hermione could have sworn she'd imagined it. Either way, he was looking at her evilly and expectantly.

She resumed her walking, feeling foolish for stopping in the first place. She lowered her head a tad bit, feeling that there was something strange about this teacher. She could feel it.

She handed him the note upon reaching his desk and waited as he read for further instructions.

His eyes glinted a bit maniacally as he read through Slughorn's messy scrawl. "Alright then," he spoke suddenly, making Hermione jump. A few of the students in the class snickered. "You have three options. You can sit by Mr. Shmoe and his Ravenclaw friends. Or, you can sit by Mr. Riddle and Mr. Malfoy, the two Slytherins. If neither of these seats suit your fancy, you may sit by my side seeing as though there are no Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors."

Hermione looked up at him and saw a flash of—_eww_—hopefulness as he nodded his head toward the empty chair on his right.

_Now _this_ was a fully-fledged pedophile_, Hermione thought grimly as she walked over toward the Ravenclaw lot.

As she sat down and opened up her arithmancy book to the instructed page, she felt a nudge in her stomach. Looking around the room, she noticed she was the only female. She blanched in worry for no more than a second, then glanced at the boy next to her to see why he nudged her.

"Hello Skylar," he said pleasantly. "I'm Joe Shmoe, and these boys are Dorian Deliser, Lionel Rafelski, and Terrence Boot." Two brown haired boys nodded in greeting, and the blonde (Terrence) mumbled a hello.

(**A/N**: Sorry about making the name Joe Shmoe; couldn't resist!)

Hermione looked at Joe. He had a nice auburn color tone to his hair, which cascaded in slight curls around his head. He had warm, welcoming green eyes. He shook her hand and Hermione felt a surge of electricity shoot through her. She smiled before saying, "Hello everyone, I'm Skylar, but you probably know that from the feast last night."

She laughed.

* * *

_**Very quick Joe's POV**_

She had a beautiful laugh.

* * *

_**Back to Hermione's POV**_

"Well, Professor—what's his name—is looking over here, so we'd better get to work." Hermione quickly dipped her eagle quill into ink.

Dorian looked at the Professor, then back at Hermione. "Oh, yeah," he said grimly. "That's Professor Peddicord," he said. "He lusts after every girl above fifth year, and seeing as you're the only girl in this class, I'd suggest you stay away from him."

The other boys nodded.

"Twenty points from Ravenclaw for talking!" the said man boomed suddenly. "I suggest you get to work unless you want to make matters worse for yourself!"

"I was talking too, Professor, it's practically all my fault," Hermione admitted.

"Nonsense," Peddicord said, winking at her creepily.

(**A/N:** I have a pedophile-ish teacher at school named Mr. Peddicord, so ignore the weirdness of the name all right? Hehe!)

Hermione cringed. When the bell finally rang, she had completed her assignment. Asking Joe to turn it in for her, she walked out of the classroom, bumping into Tom Riddle and Abraxas Malfoy.

* * *

_Stupid Broston girl_, Tom thought grimly as he walked away from the Potions classroom, where Hermione had stayed behind. He knew that she was going to be joining the Slug Club. Now, not only would he be stuck in the annoying meetings with Slughorn, but now Skylar Broston, the smart-arse extraordinaire, was going to be there too.

He silently hid in the shadows as he saw Astin emerge from the classroom as well. He decided to wait for the outcome of the meeting before heading to class, he was Head Boy and could get away with it, after all.

Suddenly he heard a pounding of a fist on wood. He flinched; was that Broston's doing?

Then he heard a few unclear shouts about a friend from home in Hufflepuff. He chanced a glance at Astin, who seemed to beam with pride. Tom's eyes drifted to Astin's forehead for a moment, before he shook his head and concentrated back on Broston just in time to hear her shout that she was declining his offer. After a while, she emerged looking very angry and flushed.

Astin approached her and began to talk to her. Tom was about to put a Disillusionment Charm and bolt to the Arithmancy classroom when he heard a snippet of their conversation.

"Her—Hermione?"

Wasn't that what Malfoy said he called her? Was Hermione a nickname? How could that be a nickname for Skylar, though?

He contemplated this a bit before he heard Skylar—or, so it seemed, Hermione—explain very briefly what had happened. Despite himself, Tom chuckled. It seemed that Slughorn had gotten quite a shock in there. Suddenly, the pair in front of him began to walk and Tom realized it was time to cast that charm and go to his class.

So he did.

He took off the charm as soon as he was outside the Arithmancy classroom. He walked in coolly, explaining he had some Head Boy duty to attend to. The creepy old professor nodded his head and Tom left to his seat.

A few minutes later, as Tom expected, Sky—Hermione walked in, looking a bit disheveled as she walked toward the professor. Tom noticed with amusement that she stopped in her tracks when she saw the professor; not that he could blame her. He was a right creepy old guy! After a moment's stillness, Hermione resumed her walking and handed the teacher a note.

Tom almost burst out laughing when Peddicord offered his options to her.

"What d'ya reckon it'll take for her to come over here?" Malfoy whispered as Hermione hesitated, looking around the room.

"My good looks?" Tom answered arrogantly as he kicked back relaxingly in his chair, prepared for her to come over so he could tell her that HE was the one to answer the questions and not anyone else.

However, she did not walk to his seat. She walked over to the Ravenclaws.

Needless to say, the rest of the lesson was eventless for Tom. However, he used it as a time to think. Astin and his scar…he knew for a fact that Astin got it from surviving the Avada Kedavra curse, but that was impossible! Anyone who survived it was put down in history, and that was nobody! Nobody survived the Killing Curse! He'd have to confront him later. Astin was one intriguing bloke, but Skylar topped him. She was brilliant and knew almost as much as he did, even though he'd never admit it. Tom glanced in her direction briefly as she conversed with that weird Joe Shmoe guy. What an odd name! Anyhow, he knew there was something about Skylar! Like her name. Why was Astin calling her Hermione if her name was Skylar? It didn't seem like a nickname, unless it was her real name. But if it was, why would she use a cover name? Was Astin the boy's real name as well? And now that he was onto something, where did they come from? If the rumors were true, they had come from a very intense battle, but it just didn't strike him as a Grindewald attack. He wouldn't spend so much effort on these two students that no one had ever heard of; if they were that high on his priorities list, then they'd be famous or something. If they were innocent bystanders, which seemed logical, they wouldn't have been so physically beaten and had dark traces all over them. They'd have been dead with a simple Avada. So, if it wasn't Grindewald, they must have been in another serious attack! But—?

Suddenly, the bell rang for dismissal and Tom was jolted out of his musings. He and Malfoy walked out of the large doors and crashed right into the plague of his mind. Skylar.

"Watch it," Malfoy said meanly, shoving her. She didn't even falter.

"Grow up," she countered, rolling her eyes at the immaturity of Malfoy. She grabbed her bag that was on the floor and, stuffing a book inside of it, pushed past Malfoy and exited the room.

That made Malfoy angry. Tom knew that the blonde-haired family hated being pushed around and sat back to enjoy the fight. He watched Malfoy creep up behind Skylar, knowing that she couldn't see him, but next thing anyone knew, Malfoy was on the floor. Skylar had one foot on Malfoy's chest and her wand at his throat.

"It's extremely cowardly to attack someone when their back is turned," she said dangerously, idly tapping her wand across his face. "If you break the rules, then they're bound to break you as well."

Tom stood up. He didn't like Malfoy all that much, but he didn't want Skylar to win the fight. Slytherin's dignity would be shattered.

Ignoring the crowd that had gathered, Tom pushed his way through until he was beside Skylar. "Get off of him," Tom said emotionlessly.

"Stay out of this Riddle," she responded, letting her eyes dart to his for a millisecond before turning back to her hostage.

"Get off of him," Tom repeated, withdrawing his wand from his pocket.

Skylar sighed and removed her foot from Malfoy. Tom smirked, thinking she had admitted to defeat. But, she then pointed her wand back and forth between them.

"Leave me now and I won't hex you," she said, her eyes darting between the two. They both laughed.

"As if you'd be able to out-duel us?" Malfoy asked arrogantly, as though she had not just cornered him on the floor with her foot.

"I've been in battles worse than you can imagine," she said, eying Malfoy. She avoided looking at Tom because he_ could_ imagine, seeing as he was the cause. "Much worse than that Grindewald fellow you seem to be so worried about."

"That's right, we both have," came a second voice.

Tom, along with all of the spectators, looked at the source. Harry stood there, his wand outstretched and his face grim.

"I'm sure," Tom said sarcastically.

"Back off and we won't hex you!" Hermione warned again.

Malfoy laughed.

"Shall we repeat the ferret incident in fourth year, Astin?" Hermione asked Harry, looking at the blonde.

"I'd say so," he answered, grinning. "I'll let you do the honors, Sky!"

Hermione grinned broadly. Muttering a complex spell that most seventh years wouldn't know, she watched amusedly as a golden-white light erupted from her wand and next thing anyone knew, Malfoy was a white ferret bouncing through the air.

There were collective laughs from the audience, and Tom had to use all of his strength not to burst out laughing. After a few moments and a shout from a teacher distantly, Hermione transfigured him back into himself and walked off with Harry.

How dare she ruin the Slytherin pride! Tom though grimly. He bolted after her and Harry. When they turned the corridor away from all prying eyes, Tom fiercely grabbed Hermione's shoulders.

"A word," he said simply, glaring at Harry.

"I'll be right back, Astin," she said, sighing, as she followed Riddle. Harry told her with his eyes to be careful, and she nodded in understanding.

Tom roughly dragged her into the nearest empty corridor. "Listen, Broston," he said violently, "I heard Astin call you Hermione. You are isolating yourself from the student body. You appeared out of nowhere. Tell me," he gripped her collar even tighter. Her face was now inches from his, and he could feel her rugged breathing. He smirked.

Hermione sighed in defeat and Tom's smirk widened into almost a smile!

"If you let me go, I'll tell you," Hermione said, her eyes twinkling, which Tom failed to notice. He hesitantly let her go, and she backed up several paces before she talked again. Tom was ecstatic; he was finally going to find out the secret of these two new kids!

"Now, I have something to tell you," she said slowly. "I have something to tell you, but—I won't."

And with that, she skipped out of the classroom to where Harry was waiting, leaving an unimaginably infuriated Tom behind her.

* * *

Hehe, I liked that chapter a lot. Any ideas or feedback? I know where I want this story to go, but I need a few "fill-in" chapters to get there. So are there any comments or feedback or ideas on what you want to see next?

Also please review! Thanks!

With Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	9. Eight: A Dangerous Duel

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot. And last chapter, I got the meanings of the names from _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter: **_1,767_

**Author's Notes: **_When it is Hermione's POV, they will be referred to as Hermione and Harry. If it is Tom's it will be Hermione and Harry as well, because sometimes it is an overall POV, where both Tom and Hermione have thoughts/feelings, so I hope that clears some things up. Enjoy!

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_

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

A Dangerous Duel

* * *

Tom watched with rage as the brunette in front of him leapt out of the door, smirking like a maniac to her little friend. He was so close, so damn close to knowing her mysterious secret. He couldn't stand it anymore. He'd use Veritaserum if he had to. Hell, he'd even use the Polyjuice Potion to look like her friend. It didn't matter how; Tom Riddle was going to solve this mystery.

* * *

Hermione couldn't suppress her spilling giggles. She never giggled, in fact, she hated giggles. But she couldn't hold it. She grabbed Harry's arm as she fought to keep her balance in her moment of glory. She had retold the story to Harry and he fought off the laughter. However, seeing his best friend giggle insanely, he couldn't hold it in any longer. 

They walked together to their next class. Upon entering the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, that they unceremoniously shared with the snake house, they noticed a blond head turn in their direction and stone-cold eyes glare daggers at them. This only increased the laughter.

Together, the two sat at a desk toward the back right corner of the room, waiting for the teacher to enter. Instead of the teacher, however, the next person to enter was Tom Riddle.

He glanced at them. The class watched closely as Tom sidled toward their desk, his midnight-hued eyes never leaving them or their glaring state. When he was close enough so only the pair could hear, he whispered dangerously, "You're going to pay for that, Broston."

"I don't have any Galleons," she answered sardonically, and, rolling her eyes, turned away. She felt the anger radiate off of Tom as he walked toward Malfoy.

"Settle down!" came a roaring voice in the doorway. Hermione, along with the other students except Tom-Knows-Everything Riddle, turned to see a strict-looking male leaning casually against the doorway.

Hermione couldn't help but let her eyes brush over his body. She was vaguely reminded of Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, what with the fit body and shaggy hair. But—that was at home.

_Home, a place I don't have._

Shaking her head, she turned back to her professor.

"As you all should know, being qualified seventh year students, I do not tolerate incessant chattering in my classroom." The professor left the doorframe and, after slamming the door shut forcefully, walked toward the steps leading to his office. However, he rested himself on the railing and sat down on the bottom step. His eyes drifted upon the students, who were silent and waiting for instructions.

"We are continuing our dueling today," he continued, his eyes sparkling as they rested on Tom. "We will have two at a time. No going soft, no feeling sympathy. A real opponent wouldn't care if you were cursed into oblivion as long as they won their battle."

So true, Hermione thought sadly.

"However, we want no severely harmful curses. If I see any, the casters will see themselves in terrible trouble."

Hermione couldn't help but noticed Tom and a few Slytherins exchange a glance. Hermione knew better than anyone that a dueling lesson was the best way to hurt an enemy of yours without getting in trouble. She'd have to watch out.

Suddenly, Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance as they noticed the professor's eyes fall upon them. He looked at them appreciatively, before turning coldly stern. "I am Professor Wintell. This, quite obviously, is the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. How'd you manage to find the way here? You didn't enter with any prefects."

Hermione knew that Wintell was only sizing them up; testing them. She saw the eager eavesdropping Slytherins, particularly Tom and Malfoy. She told Harry quietly that she'd answer.

"We all have our secrets, don't we, Professor?" she asked innocently, twinkling eyes shining. She purposely repeated the answer she gave to Malfoy when he had asked the same question. Looking at him in the corner of her brown eye, she saw a deadly scowl.

The professor looked over his eyelashes at her, scrutinizing her. She stared back defiantly, not showing cowardice. Harry, next to her, did the same. The professor's eyes twinkled in approval before looking over the other side of the classroom.

"That we do, Miss Broston."

Hermione beamed and Harry squeezed her arm proudly.

"Let us see your dueling skills, see what level you're on," Wintell said mischievously. He turned to Harry. "Let's start with you, Mr. Mottell, you haven't said much."

Harry turned to Hermione, who nodded, telling him to give all he had. He looked doubtful and she laughed; she knew he was reminded of using the Unforgivable Curses. Harry looked at Wintell and then walked up to the mat where the "battle" was to take place.

"Let's start out small," the professor said bluntly, calling up another Gryffindor to battle Harry. The Gryffindor looked offended at being called weak, but got over it and into dueling position.

"Bow," Wintell said, but Harry already had. When he put his wand at the ready and walked away from the opponent, Wintell already looked impressed.

"Begin, and NO HARMFUL CURSES!"

The Gryffindor had shouted a Bat-Bogey Hex but Harry easily deflected it with the Shield Charm.

"Avis!" Harry muttered, watching amusedly as the Gryffindor became entranced with watching the birds that emitted from Harry's wand. While the other boy was distracted, Harry yelled, "Expelliarmus!"

The boy toppled backward as his wand flew into Harry's hand. Harry banished the birds, grateful for the success of the distraction, and looked at Wintell to see if the duel was over.

"Not bad, Mr. Mottell!" he exclaimed, clapping Harry on the back as the Gryffindor embarrassedly took his seat.

"Let's try someone a tad bit more challenging, and then we'll let your friend go," Wintell continued. He picked a Slytherin, who gleefully got up to the mat.

Harry recognized him easily. He was a Lestrange; he could see it. Harry felt extra determined to win.

After the niceties were performed, Lestrange, as a Slytherin, began with a hex that blinded Harry momentarily.

Harry, unfortunately, got hit. He tumbled around, listening to the smirks of the Slytherins. He heard Hermione shout in protest, telling the Slytherins to shut up, but he stopped her with a hand gesture as Lestrange threw another curse. This time, Harry was ready and he blocked the spell, while muttering another one to unblind him. Angry, he shouted, "Incendio!"

Instantly, flames erupted all around the Slytherin, but Harry heard him shout back, "Inflamous!" and the flames froze and diminished.

Now Harry was even angrier, as was the Slytherin. Cornering Harry with his wand movements, he yelled out, "Rictusempra!"

Harry, again, deflected the spell by jumping out of the way and shooting a curse of his own. "Serpensortia!"

"No!" Hermione screamed. She knew what Harry was going to do. She knew he was going to use Parseltongue to control the snake. But she couldn't risk anyone finding out about his ability.

Lestrange backed away cowardly. Harry sighed, said, "Finite Incantatem" and the snake disappeared. Instead, however, he muttered, "Stupefy!"

And Lestrange rigidly fell to the ground unconscious as the Gryffindors and the professor cheered.

After waking up Lestrange and accompanying him to his desk, Wintell said, "Very good, Mr. Mottell! Thirty points to Gryffindor! How about Miss Broston tries now?"

Hermione smiled and walked up to the mat. Wintell, sensing some skill around her, assigned her with Malfoy. He smirked as they performed the niceties.

"One!" Wintell shouted. "Two—"

Unfairly, Malfoy yelled a curse before the count of three. He wanted payback. Unexpectedly, he said, "Expelliarmus!"

Hermione, much to the surprise of the others, easily blocked the spell. Even as he cheated, she outdid Malfoy. Cutting in with a hex of her own, she yelled, "Furnunculus!"

Instantly, large, purple, disgusting boils claimed Malfoy's face. He screamed and touched his face embarrassedly. In his anger, he yelled a Dark curse at Hermione, who barely dodged it.

"Mister Malfoy!" Wintell stormed. "How dare you! Thirty points from Slytherin! Go to Dippet's office, now!"

And reluctantly, Malfoy backed out of the classroom, his boils still visible.

"Seems you need a new duel partner." Scanning the room, Wintell's eyes locked onto Tom. "How about Mr. Riddle?" (A/N: Didn't see that coming, right: P)

* * *

Tom looked up as he heard his name. So, he was going to battle the new girl? Fantastic. He didn't even mean that sarcastically. He saw Harry's skills and had to admit he was very well-trained. Hermione he didn't see much of, skills-wise, and he was going to teach her a lesson about messing with him. 

He sauntered arrogantly onto the mat.

When Wintell yelled the third count, Tom immediately yelled, "Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!" Skylar had yelled back. After the deflection, she said, "Expecto Patronum!"

Even though the Patronus Charm was used to repel dementors, it just as easily repelled humans too. Tom watched as a corporeal Patronus, in the shape of an otter, bounded up to him. He stumbled backward before it disappeared, seeing no dementor. Tom angrily yelled a spell that sent an angry swarm of bees on her.

"Finite Incantatem!" she yelled skillfully, and the bees disappeared.

_So he wants to play dirty?_ She thought_. I can play dirty too._

"Reducto!"

Tom felt a searing pain as some of his flesh cut up. He heard the shouts of the Professor to end the duel, but Tom, stubborn as he was, ignored it.

"Diffindo!"

Hermione screeched as her stomach ripped some of its flesh open. She threw her right hand to the spot, blood spilling through her fingers. She glanced at a smirking Riddle, who recoiled at her raging glare.

"Sectumsempra!"

"Hermione, no!"

Hermione looked at Harry, as did the rest of the class. They were confused as to why he called her Hermione. She, however, gasped as she realized that Tom was losing massive amounts of blood as she turned back to him.

He was wheeled on the floor, but when he saw her turn back to him, he picked himself up. Manically, he yelled out, "CRUCIO!"

Hermione dodged the spell and threw it back. She closed her eyes a moment too late as she realized what she had done.

It wasn't Tom's screeches she was hearing; it was Wintell's. Hermione's eyes widened. He had stood in front of Riddle!

"Finite Incantatem!" Hermione yelled fiercely at the withering man on the floor.

He angrily got off of the ground and glanced between the two teenagers. "Hospital Wing. NOW."

With no other choice, they obliged. They walked to the hospital wing in silence.

* * *

There was really no point to this chapter, and I'm sorry for the shortness. It's just; I wanted an in-between chapter. Don't worry, the romance will be somewhere in the next few. I just need to build up to it! Please review. 

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	10. Nine: In the Infirmary

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out._

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot. And last chapter, I got the meanings of the names from _

**Genres: **_In the beginning it is action/adventure and tragedy. Later on it is romance, drama, angst, and the action/adventure comes back. Includes minor humor as well. _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter: **_3,705_

**Author's Notes: **_I'm thinking that I should label Hermione's POV as, well, Hermione's POV, and same with Tom. At the cross line thing, if there is no title, it means that it is overall POV. And I will probably repeat the same scene in the different POVs (Hermione & Tom) but with different feelings and thoughts for the different characters. I hope that made sense…Either way, even under Tom's POV, the names will be Hermione & Harry so that it isn't as confusing. Unless, of course, Tom is thinking something that involves their names (italics are thoughts, by the way), then they will be Skylar/Astin.

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_

**CHAPTER NINE**

In the Infirmary

* * *

_**Hermione's POV**_

Tom strode a few paces faster than Hermione did while they walked. A few portraits that they passed began to whisper, undoubtedly gossiping about why the Head Boy and the new girl walked in silence toward the Hospital Wing with scowls imprinted upon both faces.

Hermione, who hated silence, shifted uncomfortably. "Er—Tom?" she asked tentatively, keeping her distance behind him.

He didn't answer. His dark hair shook as he sauntered forward, picking up his speed at the sound of her voice.

"Tom!" Hermione said louder, jogging to fall in step with him. She was angrier now than tentative. He was acting like it was _her _fault that they were in this predicament. She'd barely gotten out of the Hospital Wing the day before and already she had to go back! If he hadn't used the Cruciatus on her…

Then it hit her.

Tom was already Lord Voldemort. Not physically, no, but most definitely mentally. He had no emotion whatsoever unless it was cold fury. He had set the basilisk loose prior to that year, and Hermione would be damned if it was an accident. She wasn't sure if he had killed his father yet, but she knew he had formed alliances with Death Eaters. She knew he had started the group. She knew he was known as Lord Voldemort to his followers.

And now, by using the Cruciatus in plain view of a full classroom _and_ a _teacher_, just because of his uncontrollable anger, it was clear to Hermione that he was Lord Voldemort in everything but physique.

"TOM!" This time she grabbed his arm fiercely, forcing him to stop dead in his tracks. He took his time in turning to her, but when he did, he was not happy.

"What?" he said smoothly but as coldly as the Black Lake was during winter.

"I—"

Hermione saw Tom smirk. She suppressed a laugh. He thought she was going to apologize! What an arrogant, little…

"I think you owe me an apology."

It was her turn to smirk as his face turned completely impassive. Looking straight into her eyes, his own flashed a blood red before he turned on his heel and opened the doors to the Hospital Wing.

Madam Mayalle was tending to a Hufflepuff third year when the pair walked in; Tom, angry at Hermione and Hermione, shaken at the flash in his eyes. Voldemort's flash.

Madam Mayalle looked up. At the sight of them, she immediately left the Hufflepuff, who howled in pain, and rushed over. She literally shoved Tom until he was tucked under some bed sheets and performed the same action to Hermione.

"Good Merlin, what happened?" she exclaimed, rubbing some green cream on Hermione's stomach that smelled oddly like fish.

"Dueling lesson in Professor Wintell's class, Madam," Tom answered silkily. Hermione glared at him for being so polite to the teacher, when it was utterly obvious that he was a mass murderer!

Well, to someone from the future anyway.

"I ought to—" Madam Mayalle threatened, trailing off as she rubbed the same cream on a part of Tom's body. Hermione watched guiltlessly as he winced from the touch.

When the matron handed each of them a vile-looking potion the color of Harry's eyes, they both hesitated.

"Now, now," Madam Mayalle said menacingly, waggling a finger at them. "You got yourself into this condition and you better drink up to get yourself out!"

And much to their dismay, she pushed the liquid in the goblets down their throats before they drifted off into a nice, calm sleep. For one of them, anyway.

* * *

_**Tom's POV**_

Tom scowled since the moment he left the classroom. He bolted the door open, hearing it slam against the plastered wall. He purposely closed it so that it would hit Hermione in the face, yet she kept it from closing by holding out her clenched hand.

He purposefully sauntered ahead of her. _Why couldn't she get hit by that bloody Cruciatus? _Tom thought resentfully. Of course, he shouldn't have cast it in the first place, but he really didn't care. That wench deserved it! How dare she try to hurt him as she did? And then, she even had the nerve to cast the Cruciatus back at him! He smirked as he thought about how much trouble she'd be in when Dippet found out about the teacher getting hit. Even if it was to save Tom.

But that got Tom to thinking. He'd be in a load of trouble as well. He mentally smacked himself for letting his Voldemort side get the best of him. The whole school would know in a matter of hours about the Head Boy using an Unforgivable Curse on the new girl, and then what would they think? He knew Dumbledore would have a fit. He already suspected Tom about the death of Myrtle a year or two back (even though it was technically his fault). He knew Dumbledore didn't fall for his façade and he knew Dumbledore would never let his damn twinkling eyes off of Tom now.

_Did I really let Voldemort loose?_ Tom thought while glaring at some gossiping portraits. He knew full well that the Slytherins disliked him from the off and probably still did. What made him smirk, however, was that they obeyed his every order because they were _afraid_ of him. Afraid! He'd studied the Dark Arts, the root of all evil. He'd shown power and brilliance beyond what any of them could even think of possessing. Even more, he'd won every teacher's respect (other than Dumbledore) and they didn't see through his fascia! Now, however, they might see his inner evil. NOT good.

Tom gradually noticed his evil increasing. While he still lived in the Muggle orphanage, he used his "magic" (even though he didn't know he had it then) in somewhat abusive ways, for a ten-year-old. He was never the nicest boy there, but he wasn't mean like the big kids. First year at Hogwarts, he was shunned from the Slytherin house for being half-blooded until he found out himself that he was Salazar Slytherin's own blood heir. With that little fact, along with his coursing study of the Dark Arts, he slowly was accepted. Second year…he wasn't liked. He wasn't in first year, either, only accepted. However, in his second year, the teachers began to take notice of his intelligence. He knew of spells and potions that the sixth years hadn't even learned yet. Third year, the girls began to swarm to him, begging for a date. Tom wasn't gay, but he didn't like the attention. He, being disliked by his own House, found likeness in his alone time. The girls began to grasp that fact in his fourth year, so they left him alone. Fourth year, a good year, for him. He had found out about immortality. He didn't quite know how to achieve it yet, but that was when his interest in Dark Arts and evil piqued into wanting to become it. _(**A/N:** I don't remember if Tom was a 5th or 6th year when he set the basilisk loose and got Hagrid expelled, but I'm going with 5th. As for the Horcrux thing, I'm going to go with 6th.) _In Tom's fifth year, he learned about the Chamber of Secrets in one of his books about his famous ancestor and decided to find it. He used his Parseltongue, a rare gift, to open it and once inside he had found the basilisk. He had set it loose, not fully aware of what it could do, and ended up killing an annoying girl of his year. Panicking, Tom placed the blame on third-year Hagrid, and everyone but Dumbledore believed him. From that moment on, someone was suspicious of Tom, and it happened to be brightest wizard to grace the Wizarding world since Merlin himself. Ah, sixth year. He was still disliked by his house, but they were afraid of him after some first-hand experience at what he could do and what he knew. He gained fear from his housemates and formed a nice group of what he liked to call, Death Eaters. He was the well-known leader and he fashioned a name for himself: Lord Voldemort. He was sick and tired of his filthy Muggle father's name. Remembering what he had read on immortality two years previous, he had discovered Horcruxes. He didn't know what they were, so he went to Slughorn, who magnificently slipped up about them.

Now, he concluded as he walked, it was seventh year. He had formulated a plan to kill his father once school let out, and he was going to become the most powerful and feared wizard in history; more than Grindewald! He was going to rid the world of Muggles and Mudbloods. He had power over his Death Eaters. All he had to do was figure out how to keep these two new students out of his way.

Speaking of the two new students, he faintly heard Hermione call out, "Tom!"

He, still angry with her, ignored her and continued his walking, although his pace had increased a bit.

"Tom!" This one was louder. He sighed when he saw her fall into step with him. He turned his head to the opposite direction. They were almost at the infirmary, surely she could wait? Or better, just leave him ALONE?

"TOM!"

He couldn't ignore it when she screamed in his ear like that and grabbed violently onto his arm. He stopped walking and turned to face her. He saw exasperation and desperation in those coffee-coated eyes, and matched them with his angry and annoyed black ones.

"What?"

"I—"

Tom smirked. She was going to apologize and, unfortunately for her, he was going to laugh at her and just walk ahead. She was most certainly NOT going to get away with cursing him and then merely apologizing! He looked at her smoothly, telling her to go on.

"I think you owe me an apology."

Tom's smirk dropped off of his face as hers slid on. Her eyes were dancing with mirth. He felt his eyes flash with his inner Voldemort as he turned on his heel and pushed open the infirmary doors silently.

* * *

Tom awoke to painful screams. He tried to lift his head off of the crinkling pillow, but it thumped at each attempt. He opened his eyes and instantly regretted it as they flooded with brightness.

"No! Ron!"

Tom's eyes darted to his left, where the screams were coming from. With some minor pain, he was able to turn his head without lifting it and he turned it toward the screams. What he saw literally widened his eyes.

He saw the new girl thrashing around. He could see the sweat beads rolling off of her body and face through the reflection of sunlight. Her mouth was slightly agape and her eyebrows were furrowed, making her face look vastly pained. She kept tossing and turning within seconds, intertwining herself with the sheets. Her face was flushed and her hair was wild and electrified. Her hands rose out of the sheets and helplessly groped the air, seemingly reaching out for someone.

"Ron! Don't die! Nooo! Harry, do something!" she mumbled agonizingly. Tom continued to watch her, unsure of what to do.

"No! Lupin! No!" She threw the blankets off of her then pulled them back on as if she were hit with frozenness. "Harry! I didn't mean to! I had to kill her! It was her life or mine! I'm sorry, Harry!"

Tom looked at her, shocked at the fact that she had killed someone—if, in fact, this dream was a memory.

"Harry! Ron's dead! Lupin's dead! Bill and Charlie and Tonks and Ginny and Neville are dead! Sirius is dead! Molly is dead! Kinglsey is dead! Harry! Harry! They're all dead!"

Tom watched in a stunned silence as the girl before him rambled and screamed in pain as she listed the deaths of people she knew. She was literally crying; tears were spilling from her closed eyelids, tainting her flushed skin.

"Harry, my parents are dead!"

This one surprised Tom the most. Not only were this girl's friends dead, according to her nightmare, but her parents were dead. By the sound of it, she was reliving a battle.

Before he had time to contemplate anything, the infirmary doors burst open. There stood Harry, whose eyes immediately darted to his thrashing best friend. Completely ignoring Tom, he rushed by her side and fell on his knees, shaking her gently. This only increased her screaming.

Harry knew Tom was awake, but he also knew that if he wanted to calm Hermione down, he couldn't well call her "Skylar." So, he opted for his only option.

"Hermione, wake up! Hermione…" Harry leaned over, and ignoring Tom's prying eyes, kissed Hermione on her forehead and stroked her hair. Hermione's cries and screams lowered to mumbling whispers, until she rasped out, "Harry?" in an incredibly soft, hurt voice.

Harry winced, he knew he'd have to say yes, and then their aliases would be useless. _Oh well_, he sighed, _they already are since I yelled her name in class._

"Yes, Hermione, it's me," Harry whispered soothingly. He missed the suspicious, surprised, and somewhat angry face of the boy in the next bed.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, throwing her weakened arms around him. "Oh Harry!"

"Shh," Harry consoled. "It's gonna be fine. You'll be alright, shh."

"Th—thank you," she whispered, throwing her face into his shoulder.

"Sorry to interrupt," Tom's icy voice rang out, lacking his so-called apology, "but Dippet has just arrived and I'm sure he'd be interested to know why you two are calling each other 'Harry' and 'Hermione'."

"I'm interested in more than that, Tom," Dippet's unsteady voice called out as Harry and Hermione pulled away from each other. "Though what with our little—er—guest here" –he pointed at Harry— "I shall have to wait."

"Oh, sorry, Headmaster," Harry said coldly. He turned to Hermione and patted her arm reassuringly. "Don't think about it," he advised so only she could hear. "We'll discuss this later."

With that, he nodded his head to Dippet and Tom and exited the Hospital Wing.

"Now," Dippet said, pacing the room, "I haven't a clue what possessed either of you to use Dark Magic in Mr. Wintell's classroom, nor how you know it, but I am quite interested to find out."

He sat down on an unoccupied bed, eyeing his favorite student and new student with suspicious eyes that lacked his usual oblivious joviality.

Hermione tried her best not to laugh as she wiped away her remaining tears. _"Nor how you know it?"_ she thought mockingly, _Tom's been studying the Dark Arts since he heard of them, Mr. I-Love-The-Head-Boy-But-Fail-To-Acknowledge-The-Fact-That-He-Is-A-Potential-Murderer!_

"Something funny, Miss Broston?" Dippet asked as she was unable to contain her laughter. She could have sworn she heard Tom mumble, "_If that's even her _name"

"Not at all, Headmaster," she said back, ignoring Tom.

"Right then, care to explain?"

Tom and Hermione grudgingly shared a look. Tom spoke first. "I'm sorry sir, as Head Boy I most certainly should not have behaved so immaturely." He hung his head and Dippet actually seemed to believe that Tom was ashamed. Even Hermione could see the smirk that tainted his lips!

"Yes, but he did," Hermione interjected, causing Tom to snap his head back up menacingly. "It was because I seemed to have provoked him by using a Patronus during our duel," she began.

"It was corporeal!" Tom interrupted angrily. "She shouldn't know how to do that! I'm Head Boy and I'm concerned that she's not learning any magic prematurely! Hardly any adult wizards could do that!"

"I learned in fifth year, so what?" Hermione shot back hotly. "It was in self defense when I did it then, as it was now. It wasn't harmful to you; it was merely something I choose to use during a supervised class duel!"

As Tom opened his mouth to say something back, Dippet held up a hand and interrupted. "I have to say, you both have fair points on this matter. Tom is right; he was solely looking out for troublemakers, Miss Broston, which you must understand."

Hermione scoffed noticeably. _Looking out for troublemakers my arse! I can't believe Dippet believes every cock-and-bull story that killer tells him,_ she thought indignantly.

"However," Dippet turned, "Miss Broston has a nice defense as well. Her—_corporeal_—Patronus" —he said this with awe— "was not used to harm, and it did not. It was simply a distraction to use during the duel. Continue on, Miss Broston."

With that being said, Hermione continued as Tom bristled. "After that, Professor, he sent a mob of angry, deadly bees on me." Hermione said this with emotion, pretending that she was deeply affronted by the action. Tom noticed and rolled his eyes, which Dippet missed. He nodded and looked at Tom.

"Tom, I know that spell, and it could cause serious damage. It could have been fatal," he said disapprovingly, obviously upset about having to scold his best student.

"I should have looked into that before using the hex, Headmaster," Tom sucked up. "I was not aware of the consequences."

Hermione could not believe her eyes when Dippet nodded and said, "I'm sure you didn't." _Of course he did, you great oaf!_ Hermione thought furiously. _He knew perfectly well of the harm it could have caused me! _

"And then, Headmaster," Tom butted in, sneering smugly at Hermione, "after_ Skylar_" —he emphasized the name— "skillfully ended the spell using the Finite Charm, she sent the Reductor Curse at me."

Dippet's eyes widened as he turned to look at Hermione, who was presently glaring at Mr. Storyteller.

"That is a very harmful curse!" he said indignantly, not bothering to hide his favoritism over Tom.

"Yes, but do you know what he hit me with next?" Hermione asked heatedly. "He used Diffindo on me!" And, slightly embarrassed, she lifted up her shirt just enough so that the large, purple, deep gash could be seen across her stomach. Dippet openly gasped. "That was after the Professor told us to stop. But Tom here ignored his orders and stubbornly hit me with it." With that, she lowered her shirt.

"Tom!" Dippet said scandalously, shaking his head. "I am ashamed to even hear such things! How could you?"

"I—it was in self-defense, sir!" Tom said, outraged. "She threw the Reductor Curse at me! Was I supposed to just sit there and take it?"

"Yes!" Hermione yelled at him, "The professor told you to do just that!"

"ENOUGH!"

All three heads turned to look at where the fourth voice came from. Standing in the doorway was a very angry-looking Dumbledore, the usual twinkle in his eye far from present. The only other time Hermione had seen Dumbledore this mad was when—well, never.

Despite his fury, he walked casually over to the trio and sat on the bed Dippet was sitting on, causing the latter to hastily stand up and brush off his robes.

"I could hear the pair of you bickering all the way down the hall," Dumbledore informed them, looking in turn from Hermione to Tom. "I want you two to lay down in your beds while I calmly inform the Headmaster what happened yesterday in your Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

"Yesterday?" Tom and Hermione spluttered simultaneously before looking at each other and turning away in disgust.

"Yes, yesterday, you both were injured and spent the night here. It is now presently lunch time," Dumbledore answered. "Now, please…" He waved with his hands to indicate that he wanted to talk to Dippet.

After what seemed like hours, but was really minutes, Tom and Hermione saw Dippet and Dumbledore emerge from the room that they went in to talk. Dippet looked sullen while Dumbledore looked impassive.

"You used the Cruciatus Curse?" Dippet asked regretfully. At Tom or Hermione, neither knew, but both nodded glumly.

"Oh dear, I'll have to do drastic measures for this," Dippet muttered. "You two should be in Azkaban, thank Merlin Dumbledore has connections."

Dumbledore beamed despite himself.

"Yes well, onto the punishments then," Dippet continued, walking over to Hermione's bed first. "Firstly, one hundred points will be taken from Gryffindor. Secondly, you will serve a detention every Saturday night for the remainder of the school year with our caretaker, Apollyn Pringle (sp?). And lastly, you will be banned from all school Hogsmeade trips." Hermione nodded solemnly as Dippet moved to Tom's bed and Dumbledore gave her a sympathetic look.

"As for you, Tom," Dippet said, shutting his eyes in disbelief. "I must say I am truly disappointed in you. I will be banning you as well from Hogsmeade trips. You will have detention every Friday night with Apollyn Pringle for the rest of the year. And, lastly, as it hates me to say, I will be suspending your Head Boy privilege for three weeks."

Ignoring Tom's indignant cry of protest, Dippet left the Hospital Wing.

"Now, Tom, Dippet said something about you complaining over Miss Broston's name?" Dumbledore said jovially, making Tom and Hermione both jump. They had forgotten he was there.

"Yes. She and her little friends have been conversing as Hermione and Harry, Professor," Tom said smugly.

"Yes, I'd expect so," Dumbledore answered. Hermione looked at him in shock. _Surely he won't reveal the truth?_

"Excuse me?" Tom asked bewilderedly.

"Oh, Tom," Dumbledore began, "I don't think they wish me to tell you this, so you must be sworn to secrecy as I say this."

Tom nodded eagerly and Hermione put her face in her hands.

"Well, these two new students are really named Harry Astin Mottell and Hermione Skylar Broston. However, they go by their middle names because they came from a battle where they lost so much. By using their given names, they are haunted with the memories, so they have decided to go by their middle names."

Hermione's head lifted from her hands. She looked amazedly at Dumbledore, who lied so easily. It was clear Tom didn't believe him, but he didn't say anything as Madam Mayalle came in and released him and Hermione.

* * *

Well, I hope you like it. If not next chapter, than the one after will definitely have some romance. Or—as close to romance as it can get from this point. Please review!

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	11. Ten: A Solved Mystery

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out._

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot. And last chapter, I got the meanings of the names from _

**Genres: **_In the beginning it is action/adventure and tragedy. Later on it is romance, drama, angst, and the action/adventure comes back. Includes minor humor as well. _

**Warnings: **_This follows HBP. The story is rated M. The mature parts come later._

**Words this Chapter: **_3,370

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_

**CHAPTER NINE**

A Solved Mystery

* * *

_**Hermione's POV**_

The moment they were released, Hermione ran to the Great Hall. She was greeted by curious and somewhat frightful stares as she searched frantically for Harry. Clearly, the seventh years spread the events of the class to the rest of the school.

She finally found Harry sitting alone in a secluded portion of the Gryffindor table. She rushed over to him and sat down next to him, pulling his head toward her.

"Hermione—our cover names are blown," he said glumly yet quietly, so as not to let the eavesdroppers hear. He poked at his soup impassively.

"In a sense," she replied. Harry looked up at her; confusion unmasked his pale green eyes. "Dumbledore told Riddle that Astin and Skylar were our middle names."

She began to tell him what happened in the Hospital Wing. Harry sniggered significantly when she told him what was going on in her head while Dippet "understood" Riddle's antics. His sniggering stopped abruptly, however, when she mentioned her punishment.

"One hundred points?" he asked gloomily, a little louder than he wished. A few curious Gryffindors turned to him. A few of the more clever ones noted the abrupt change in rubies where the House hourglasses were placed and took a moment out of their day to glare at Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione replied sullenly.

"Slytherin didn't get any points taken!" Harry said indignantly, glancing at the Slytherin hourglass.

"No, but he got Head duties taken away for three weeks, Harry," Hermione said, sounding more gleeful now that the worst of it was over. "That means we can sneak out without him to find us," she whispered in a lower tone. "We can search for ways to get home!"

"But, Herm," Harry said, shortening her name for the first time she could remember, "do we really want to go home? We don't have a home to go to."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again, finding nothing to say. "My God, Harry," she said incredulously, "You're right! We've lost it all, haven't we?"

The two of them finished their lunch in a rather gloomy silence; neither noticing the Gryffindor who had listened to everything.

* * *

_**Simon's POV**_

Simon watched the two new students—after their not-so-happy conversation—sullenly leave the Great Hall, a bounce missing in their steps. He had heard everything. These mere seventeen year olds—like him—seemed to have so much missing in their life. They seemed to have lost their home. Did that explain the isolation that they cast upon themselves? Did that explain the rumors that they admitted as true? Whatever it was, Simon was bound to find out and help these students.

* * *

_**Hermione's POV**_

Clutching Harry's arm for the dear life of her, she and Harry headed to their next class. Hermione scowled as she saw it was with the Slytherins. _How come,_ she asked herself, _we have every bloody class with the snakes today?_ Granted, this was a mix with all four houses, but she still wasn't very happy on her way to Divination.

"I thought I was free of this nonsense in third year," Hermione moaned into Harry's shoulder. "And here it is, back to haunt me!"

"We don't have Trelawney, if it makes you feel any better," Harry said sympathetically, "I know it makes me feel better; I won't have my death predicted every other class now."

Hermione laughed despite herself. "And there's not fifty flights of stairs to climb either," she said as she turned to the fourth-floor left wing.

"True," Harry agreed.

They entered the classroom and were delighted to see that the room was not engulfed in pink or glitter. It did not reek of overused perfume, and there was not a teacher who resembled a fly.

Instead, the room was a light, comfortable blue with the windows inhaling the sunlight from outside. In the place of Trelawney's glitter there were photographs of what Hermione could only guess as famous Seers. Beside the many photographs were somewhat abnormal-looking items that Hermione figured were for seventh-year Divination. What did she know? She had dropped the class. Literally. Swiveling her head, she saw the teacher. It, surprisingly, was a man. He was balding slightly but had a nice, carefree aura about him. _He looks kind of like my father, _Hermione thought as tears sprung to her eyes.

Harry noticed. "Hey, hey Hermione," he whispered, patting her head. "What's wrong?"

"Teacher—looks—dad," she mumbled, her words muffled as her head was glued to Harry's shoulder at the moment.

Harry, however, understood. "Oh, Hermione, don't worry. At least you don't have to look in the mirror and see your father," he said.

"Harry, you never knew your dad," she said, confused, as she lifted her head up and wiped her eyes.

"No, but everyone tells me I look like him, like, splitting-image, and it just plagues my mind when I look in the mirror that it's my dad I see."

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, muttering a spell to hide her red cheeks as the rest of the class entered.

"Don't be," he whispered back, and looked at the teacher as he began to speak.

"Hello, class, I am Professor McGonagall, perhaps some of you know my daughter, who graduated a year or two back?" the man started. (A/N: I wasn't sure if Minerva was a Muggle-born or not, so I'm going with not.)

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," the class chanted back. Harry and Hermione were used to this, minus the minor fact that it was a male in front of them.

"Yes, yes. There are some Divination teachers out there," he began, "that abuse the position. Family members of Seers who claim they are one as well…the old frauds. It is very rare that a Seer is born, whether in the family of one or not. However, it does not take Seers to…"

Hermione droned out of the man's speech. She let her mind wander on other things.

It seemed that Riddle was curious about them beyond a safe point. She didn't know much about Voldemort Jr., all she knew was that he was brilliant, a good actor and charmer, and probably very observant. She and Harry had already had more than a few slips and they couldn't afford to let out any more, not with Riddle's sudden pique in interest.

_Thank Merlin Dumbledore was in the infirmary when Riddle mentioned our names,_ Hermione thought, _or else I would not have been able to find an excuse!_

Hermione hardly noticed that class had ended until Harry pulled on her sleeve.

"You weren't paying attention!" Harry teased. "The infamous know-it-all, Hermione Granger, wasn't paying attention!"

"Yes, well, the infamous know-it-all dropped this class in her third year, remember?" Hermione snapped back. "Now shush! Must you be so _loud_?"

"Sorry, I got it from Ron," Harry laughed, before going extremely pale and clamping a hand to his mouth. "God, I'm sorry, Hermione," he said quietly.

Hermione's eyes glazed over; she was as pale as Harry was. Tears formed in her eyes (not so unusual anymore, huh?) and her body was shaking. Before Harry had any time to react, Hermione lost control over her body and collapsed.

"Shit!" Harry cursed under his breath as he hoisted Hermione into his arms and ran toward their private room. He tried his hardest to ignore the prying eyes and curious whispers, but one participant in particular made his blood run cold: Tom Riddle.

* * *

_**Tom's POV**_

Tom watched interestedly as Harry ran by with a pale, unconscious Hermione in his arms. Harry spared him one glance, a menacing one at that. Tom decided to follow.

He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself as he jogged past the portraits of the gossipers. He ran, not really knowing why, until his ribs felt a pricking in them. His breath grew short, yet he looked onward. To his shock, Harry was still running full-speed with Hermione. _He must have been a Quidditch player_, Tom thought disgustedly.

Tom sighed; he'd have to figure out their living quarters later. He turned around, only to walk right into Dumbledore.

"Why, hello, Riddle, didn't see you there!" Dumbledore said, making it obvious that he had, in fact, seen Tom there. "Might I have a word?"

"Don't have much of a choice, do I?" Tom grumbled as he followed Dumbledore to the Transfiguration room. "Yes, Professor?"

"Tom, I know you were following Astin and Skylar," he began serenely, looking at Tom with his calm, blue eyes.

"You mean Harry and Hermione, don't you?" Tom asked bitterly.

"That is, indeed, their given names. They only use them while conversing with each other, and I do not think it'd be wise if you decided to join in. Now," he said, clasping his hands together, "I know that sometimes you get—ah—curiosity peaks. But I don't think it'd be the wisest idea to track down these two."

"Why not?" Tom couldn't help but ask. If Dumbledore was trying to decrease his curiosity, it wasn't working.

"They have a mysterious, sad, and terrible past," Dumbledore replied seriously, glancing out of the window.

Tom wasn't expecting that kind of answer. He waited for Dumbledore to continue.

"Only the two of them, and myself, know their real past. And, of course, I hardly know the details." He chuckled appreciatively but then grew serious. "But please, Tom, the last thing they need is for you to go prying into their lives. Please," Dumbledore said. Tom was startled to say the least. He had never seen Dumbledore beg or plead. "Or else, I shall have to inform a few Ministry officials about your use of the Cruciatus Curse. It was, after all,_ my _connections that prevented any serious punishment."

"Is that a threat?" Tom asked incredulously. "But Hermione—oh, _sorry_—_Skylar_ used it too! And she actually hit someone!"

"Indeed she did," Dumbledore replied dismissively. "Now, you best be running off to your next class, son. Good day."

As Tom walked out of Dumbledore's office, he couldn't help but be more curious about the two students. He couldn't even contemplate why he cared so much! He had always been observant and always liked a challenge. _I guess they are somehow a challenge to me, _Tom thought.

_I know one thing, though. Dumbledore's meeting did the very last thing he wanted it to do: He made me even more interested.

* * *

_

Hermione woke up on a soft, squishy bed, which, as she had learned in the past week, was very unlike the infirmary beds. Looking around, she saw an inquisitive goldenrod and scarlet decorating the walls.

_Gryffindor dormitory, of course! _she thought, before the reality check came crashing down on her. She then realized she was in her private quarters. Hermione heard running water; Harry must have been in the shower. Groggily, she picked herself up and swung off of the cot.

Harry came out of the shower a few minutes later just as Hermione began brushing her hair. Harry, who emerged in just a towel, grinned at her and asked her how she was feeling.

"I'm fine, thanks," she said. "What time is it?"

"It's around eight-thirty," he answered. "Dinner's long over, but if you're hungry we can go down to the kitchens."

"No, I'm good. I think I'm just going to go to the Astronomy Tower and think for a bit," she answered.

"Want me to come?"

"Sure."

Sure enough, twenty minutes later they found themselves in the Astronomy Tower. Hermione settled herself by the large, white-rimmed window. She was sitting down on her rear, hugging her knees to her chest. Now that they were alone, she freely let her wall of strength down and freely cried.

Harry, on the other hand, faced the window, staring out of it dazedly. His hair, windswept, flopped on the top of his head ungracefully as he stood with his hands clutching the railing so hard that his knuckles were white.

Neither noticed the presence hiding in the shadows. Tom had been walking the corridors, just out of habit, when he saw Harry and Hermione looking extremely upset and pale. He followed them, hoping to figure out where their rooms were hidden, but was disappointed to find that they were only going to the Astronomy Tower.

He was going to turn back and continue to wander aimlessly around the school when he heard the sounds of whimpering. He swiveled around and saw, to his disbelief, Hermione sobbing and shaking on the floor of the Astronomy Tower, while Harry looked lifelessly out of the window. Tom scurried into the shadows where they couldn't hear or see him.

"Harry," Hermione said sadly, not looking up at him. "I—I want to go home. I don't like it here…"

Harry didn't turn around when he responded. "I don't either, but at least our friends here are alive!"

"Friends?" Hermione had asked incredulously. "What friends, Harry? We haven't talked to anyone except a few Gryffindors, Malfoy, Riddle, and Dumbledore. What friends could we possibly have?"

Harry walked away from the window and toward the middle of the room. "I don't know. We've only been here a few days and already we've got people on our case and illegal curses coming out of our wands!"

"I—I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said, shaking more violently. "I didn't mean to do it!" Hermione began to bawl harder. Harry immediately ran over to her and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Herms," he said soothingly. "I—I didn't mean to snap at you…"

"Oh, but Harry, you're right! We haven't even been here a week and already I've cast the Cruciatus on someone! I'm just so mad!" She began to yell in fury. Harry patted her head and Tom backed away farther, figuring that he would not want to be caught with Hermione so angry. _Not that I'm afraid, of course…because I'm not!_

Harry said nothing. He knew what Hermione was about to blow up about, and he continued to just hold her, feeling his own tears burn and sting his eyes.

Tom, through the moonlight's reflection, could see tears forming in Harry's eyes. He was surprised, to say the least; both of these people had strength radiating off of them. Nothing compared to him of course (as he liked to think), but strong nonetheless. What could break such a big barrier?

Hermione furiously shrugged off Harry's arms and he sighed, preparing himself for one of Hermione's blows. They did not happen often; more like rarely. But when they did happen, one word: Beware. Of course, Harry shared the rage with her this time. _And to think, we're in the same classes as the cause!_ Harry thought angrily. He, however, had learned to control his anger after a certain incident at the end of fifth year.

"Why did they have to die?" Hermione yelled angrily and sadly, standing up and walking over to the window. "All of them! He killed my parents! He killed Ron! He killed Sirius and Lupin! He killed YOUR parents! He killed Neville! He killed the Weasleys! He killed the Aurors! He killed Dum—Dum—" She couldn't bring herself to say his name. "Well, you know who I mean! He killed everyone who was on our side! Except us! And the people here are worried about Grindewald? He's nothing compared to _him_!" Hermione wiped away a few of her tears and fingered something in her pocket that neither male could see.

Tom stood stunned in his spot. _So the dream was true,_ he thought. _All of their family and friends were killed, they have no home. Worse than Grindewald!_

Tom felt a jolt of something unfamiliar to him. Was it—sympathy? He shook his head, as though to wash away the feeling, but to no avail. He couldn't help but feel anger boil up inside for whoever did this to these poor people. They were seventeen years old! They didn't deserve this! Tom was confused. Normally, he'd be cackling with joy over seeing the lives of two infuriating students ruined. However, he couldn't place himself to feel joyous. He felt the opposite: he felt sick, angry, and pitiful. He didn't understand it, and it scared him.

"I want to go home, Harry!" Hermione wailed, running up to Harry and threw her arms around him. She felt the tears from his eyes pour into her hair, but she could care less. "I wish the final battle never happened! I wish it was all a dream! I want to wake up from this nightmare! I want to go home! I want to see Ron again! Harry, we can never see Ron again! Or any of them! I can never see my parents again! THEY'RE ALL DEAD!"

Hermione shook ferociously as she cried, Harry desperately trying to soothe her, Tom standing astonished in his position in the shadows. He could not believe what he was witnessing.

Hermione, after several moments, seemed to have calmed down considerably, for she merely sniffed and then pulled away from Harry, wiping her teary eyes. "Thanks Harry. I—I think I just want to be alone right now."

Harry nodded. He was about to open the door (Tom shifted to his right so as to not be seen) when he briefly turned around and said, "Remember, Hermione, I'm here for you." Then he left.

Tom was about to follow when his curiosity got the best of him. He shifted back into his original position and watched Hermione closely, still feeling that irritating tinge of sympathy.

"And to think I killed someone," Hermione mumbled after Harry had closed the door. She stood up, pacing the middle of the room. "I had to kill her, though! She killed Ron, for Merlin's sake! I—I'm a murderer!"

Hermione broke down again. Tom, for a split second, had the indescribable urge to go and wrap his arms around her and whisper soft words into her ear. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, however, he shrugged it off immediately. What was going on with him?

"I killed someone! But I did it for you, Ron!" Hermione murmured, fingering the thing in her pocket again. "She killed you! I had to do something! I couldn't let her get away with it!" New tears formed in her eyes and streamed down her flushed cheeks with ease.

"I love you, Ron," Hermione whispered so quietly that Tom had to strain his ears to hear. He then saw—finally—what the object in her pocket was. She pulled out a band and slipped it onto her ring finger.

Ironically, she walked closely to where Tom was positioned. He studied the ring, eyes wide. It was a pure-gold, thick band with a single diamond in the middle. It had several gold-and-scarlet rubies surrounding the diamond.

Hermione read the inscription aloud almost inaudibly. "Hermione Jane Granger, I will love you beyond the day I die. I will love you beyond the day you die. I will love you beyond the day the world dies. Hermione, I will love you forever." Tom couldn't hear, he could only see her lips move. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to read lips very well.

"I never told Harry we were engaged, Ron," Hermione whispered, staring intently at the band around her finger. "We were going to tell him the day after the battle, remember? We were going to ask him to be our best man."

Tom's mouth hung open. She was engaged?

"But—now, I don't see the point. Who wants to talk about their dead fiancée?" Hermione spilt a whole new tirade of tears. "I love you…"

Hermione then walked over to the spot by the window, letting herself get drenched by cool air. "Why did you all have to die? Why did he have to kill you?"

She got up and wiped away the last of her tears, casting the same spell she used in Divination to make her cheeks look normal and non-tearstained. Tom noticed she was about to leave and decided to wait until she was gone before exiting the shadows.

"Riddle?"

Tom, dreading it, turned around and stared right into the furious eyes of none other than Hermione.

* * *

Well, what do you think? Please review! See, I already started some attraction on Riddle's part (sort of). And, he knows about her past now…just not all of it.

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	12. Eleven: Slytherin Strikes Back

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot. And last chapter, I got the meanings of the names from _

**Warning: _THIS CHAPTER IS RATED R! READ ONLY IF YOU CAN HANDLE ADULT ELEMENTS!_**

**Words this Chapter:** 5,740

* * *

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Slytherin Strikes Back

* * *

"Riddle?"

Tom turned around, dreading the way her voice sounded. Even though she was completely vulnerable only moments before, she sounded like she could kill off a werewolf just by the sound of her voice at that moment. He kept his face blank, however, and turned around, forcing a smirk onto his face.

"You called, Broston?" he asked impatiently, examining his wand through his white fingers.

"How long have you been here?" she rasped, her voice quivering with anger.

"Long enough to know about your little past," Tom said, smirking. "If only you had left details about the location, I'd finally know your secret."

"Oh, you don't want that, Riddle," Hermione snapped irritably, glaring at Tom with a poisonous intensity. "Besides, don't you know enough already?" Tears pricked at her eyes, but Hermione was not going to cry in front of Tom Riddle. Granted, she already had, but he wasn't the reason that time…

Tom saw the threatening tears in her eyes, and only smirked, fully aware that he was being extremely heartless. He knew she had emerged from a battle where she had lost everything dear to her, other than Harry. She had lost her friends, family, fiancée, and home. However, he liked having the upper hand; seeing her weakness. He liked the feeling of control, and ignored the tug that he was receiving from his heart.

"Aw, are you going to cry?" he mocked, leaning against the wall. He didn't know what had come over him; he had a thirst to see her cry. However, she didn't. Her rage only seemed to intensify.

"I'd shut up if I were you," she warned in a low voice, grasping her wand and pointing it at him menacingly.

"You are not me, nor will you ever be as close to brilliance as I am," Tom replied, eying her wand without interest. _That's not true, _his conscience told him; the one he had thrown away years ago. Why was it bothering him now?

"You know that's not true," Hermione responded as though she had read his mind. "You know I'm a threat to you; you know I'm just as intellectually potent as you are. You know I'm witty and know my stuff. You know I'm alert and powerful. You know I'm a threat to you, your one and only match, and you don't like it. That's why you're a heartless, cold bastard. And I mean that quite literally, as a matter of fact," she said, growling in fury. She knew the second she said the last bit that she had crossed the line, but the words had poured out. She saw his eyes narrow and his face drain of all color.

"How do you know about my family?" Tom asked her angrily, drawing his wand.

"We all have our secrets," she answered evasively.

"You'll shut up if you know what's best for you!" he threatened.

"I don't give a damn about your threats, Riddle!" Hermione said exasperatedly. "I don't care about what you can or can't do! I don't care that you can't handle being the best at everything! I DON'T CARE THAT YOU'RE JEALOUS!"

"Jealous?" Tom spluttered. "Jealous of WHAT?"

"You know what," Hermione whispered, closing in on him. Tom didn't even flinch.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hermione Skylar Broston!" he said firmly, testing out her full name, if that was indeed her name.

"You know nothing about me," she muttered, looking away.

"I know enough to figure out that you're just bitter because you lost all of your friends and family and your stupid little fiancée!" Tom yelled without thinking.

That did it. Hermione stared him dead-on in the eyes, hers filling with tears but never wavering. Her tears did not drop as she backed away from him, her face extremely impassive. She was white as a ghost and her body was shaking.

"You don't know how bad it is to lose a loved one," Hermione said monotonously, her voice betraying no emotion. "But when you lost every single person you've ever cared out, except one, and watch them die slow, bloody, painful deaths, hearing them cry out for mercy, watching the light leave their eyes, it's a lot worse than never loving anyone at all. You will_ never_ know what it feels like, Tom Riddle, so don't _even _go there."

Tom watched as Hermione walked out of the Astronomy Tower, notonce looking back at him.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since the incident in the Astronomy Tower. Hermione had not spoken to Tom once, not even when they were partnered in Charms class. She could feel his gaze on her quite often; daring her not to look at him, and that's exactly what she did. Even though she felt him gaze at her during class, meals, or even study sessions in the library, she never once looked up or said a word to him.

Hermione had also, oddly, distanced herself from Harry. He noticed, being as she was his only friend, and he tried to talk to her about it (she had told him the Astronomy Tower incident). However, she always shrugged him off. She would talk to him when she needed someone to talk to, but she liked to be alone for the most part. It was how she truly was: alone, friendless, loveless, and homeless. Tom had stated that perfectly.

Hermione would certainly not usually care when Tom, or anyone, said something so harsh. Sure, she'd get offended, but she'd shrug it off sooner or later. However, Tom's words stung Hermione like a poison. It was not what he said; it was the truth in the words. She shed not one tear; she was actually quite emotionless for someone who had gone through so much. She didn't feel grief anymore; she felt lifelessness.

Hermione made use of her time. When she wasn't in classes, she was in the library or her dormitory. She would study extremely hard for her classes; not because she wanted to top Tom (though it was a nice bonus) but because she felt it was the one thing in her life she could control. She could control her intelligence, and therefore wanted to shine it magnificently. If Hermione was (gasp!) not studying for classes, she was studying Time-Travel. She made sure to do it very discreetly, however. She'd only do so in the Room of Requirement, where nobody could figure out what she was researching. She didn't do it because she wanted to go home. She did it because she wondered if she could possibly change things for the better. She was also curious to see what had happened to her other life, the one in 1997.

Hermione rarely went to meals. She'd go to her dormitory and somehow summon a house elf to get her food. Harry, tired of the whispers and stares directed his way whenever he'd enter the Great Hall alone (and because he hated the loneliness) he joined her for meals in their dormitory, eating in silence, slowly drifting apart…

Hermione also made a habit of taking daily walks. Actually, it was more of a twice-a-day walk. She'd wake at sunrise and dress in workout attire. She'd pull her hair into a soft ponytail and jog all the way to the Entrance Hall. She'd leave the castle and just sprint around the grounds, running her problems away. She'd do this at night as well. As soon as she was sure everyone had left dinner for their common rooms, she'd leave the castle and repeat the practice from the earlier morn, returning to Harry and their dormitory just before the clock struck ten.

In the very same two weeks as Hermione's isolation, Tom had a few things on his mind as well. He couldn't quite understand why, but he felt some sort of bond toward Hermione; it was weird though, because she made it plain that she hated his guts. Tom would pace back in forth in the mornings, thinking of how he could make it up to her. When his senses kicked back into gear, he'd hex the first person he saw and grumble off to his secret alcove by the Black Lake.

However, with so much on his mind, Tom started returning to his alcove less and less until he finally stopped going period. He no longer brewed the potion that'd help him lead his life immortally. For some strange, unknown reason, Hermione had affected every decision he decided to make with his life.

Tom would constantly try to catch Hermione's eye. He'd burn holes through her head, back or front, trying to convince her to look up. It never worked. She was stubbornly ignoring him. _And she had every right to,_ Tom's annoying conscience rang out. The bloody voice was in his head more and more as the days passed by.

Tom noticed how alone Hermione and Harry both looked. Tom had the distinct feeling that they weren't spending as much time together as they initially had been. He noticed that Harry always looked at Hermione with immense worry in his green eyes as Hermione refused to talk to or look at anyone other than the current teacher. Her eyes always looked glossy and lost, as if she didn't know where she was or how she got there. However, Tom noticed her intelligence rising and her presence lowering. She began to skip meals and Tom grew worried. Had he done this to her?

Of course he had, was all he could think. Why else would she suddenly lose her personality and detach herself from her best (and only) friend? But Tom couldn't help but feel that _he_ hadn't affected her so much as what he _said_. He knew she wasn't intimidated by him (_that was a first!)_ and he also knew she could care less what he said to her, but the last words he ever spoke to her were hateful, teasing, and…true. Her words, however, haunted him as well. Her final, parting words, that is. Everything she said was true, as much as he despised to admit. He stroked his hair frustratedly as he walked away from his current spot.

* * *

**_Hermione's POV_**

Hermione walked absentmindedly around the castle, waiting for Transfiguration to start. Lunch was currently being served in the Great Hall, and Hermione had to admit she was hungry, but she didn't go in there. As she smelled the faint scent of spinach rolls, she was tempted, but her senses kicked in and she instead headed toward the Transfiguration classroom to wait until class started.

Hermione was thinking to herself as she walked, her feet controlling her direction rather than her brain. She knew she was showing signs of weakness, which she despised. She was letting herself give in to Tom. He wanted her to hurt; he wanted her to do exactly what she was doing. He had said those words to weaken her, to slap her with a force so mighty that she'd separate herself from everyone, and that's precisely what she did.

She fought an internal battle with herself, unsure of what to do. She pulled at the ends of her hair, praying for a solution, praying that life would be easy again. That her biggest worry was not getting an "O" on the Potions essay. That she could have a—somewhat—normal life again.

_But life was cruel_, she thought as she rounded a corner on the fourth floor. Life was cruel and decided to give her a dose of pain to suffer with. But perhaps life accidentally measured in tablespoons rather than teaspoons and she ended up suffering a hell of a lot more than she was meant to_. Yes,_ she decided, that was the case. _Life screwed up and now I'm the one to suffer. _Hermione sunk to the floor.

…She instantly felt guilty. _Poor Harry._ The thought plagued her mind like a magnet attracting metal. The poor boy; losing all of his friends—and everything else he had to experience throughout his lifetime—and being thrown into the past, forced to go to classes with the one who caused it all. And now, his only friend, his only link to happiness was slithering away from him. Hermione's blood ran cold as she realized how badly she was hurting Harry. He needed her; whether in the past or not, Harry needed her right now and she was selfishly wallowing in her own problems.

Hermione faintly heard the sounds of approaching footsteps, so she got up off the floor and stood in front of the Transfiguration room, waiting for Dumbledore to open the door and allow her entrance.

After a few more students had gathered, the door flew open. In stepped Hermione, followed by a mix of all the seventh years throughout the school. She scurried to a two-person desk in the right-hand section of the room, waiting for Harry to find her and sit down.

Hermione turned and faced the window, searching through the slightly tinted glass for hope. She had no hope. Vaguely, Hermione felt a plop in the seat next to her, and inwardly grinned. She'd be able to apologize now.

As she turned her head, her happiness slowly sunk into a frowning gloom. Tom Riddle had sat down next to her and was looking at her slightly cautiously yet confidently and, as Slytherins have mastered perfectly, haughtily.

Hermione looked over the boy's shoulders and sought out for Harry. She spotted him sitting next to someone she instantly recognized as Simon Potter. _So Harry was meeting family, how wonderful,_ Hermione thought, smiling as she saw Harry grin widely. He seemed to have felt her gaze, for he turned around and she looked at him sadly, glancing at Tom with annoyance. He seemed to have understood and nodded in sympathy. Hermione smiled; her silent apology was accepted.

"—Animagus," Hermione caught Dumbledore saying. Oddly enough, he was looking at her. Hermione panicked; she did not know what Dumbledore had said. Were they transfiguring into Animagi today? That didn't seem like the kind of thing they'd teach at a school, though…perhaps the background information on Animagi?

Sighing, in desperate need, she turned to Tom. "What did Dumbledore say? I didn't hear him." Her voice was toneless.

Tom had a retort right up his sleeve, but suddenly the familiar pull was on his heart again and he found himself gushing out Dumbledore's words. "We're learning about Animagi but will not perform the spell for some time," he said, mimicking Dumbledore's voice and everything.

Hermione nodded and without saying her thanks, turned toward the teacher. No way was she going to miss out on important information again and have to ask Tom for answers. Hermione felt his hard gaze on her the entire lesson before dismissal was declared and she jumped out of her seat and jogged over to Harry. The gaze never wavered.

* * *

A few more days had passed; Hermione had quickly abandoned her depression when she let Harry talk to her. She found herself listening to his words again and again in her head; the sound of his voice was soothing to her, like a taste of home and care. Hermione began to show up at meals again and transformed back into her normal self. She let Harry's words overcome her rather than Tom's. However, Hermione kept her habit of her morning and nightly walks. She felt comfort in her thoughts without the bustling of Hogwarts students.

Tom noticed that Hermione had quickly gone back to herself as soon as she had talked to Harry in Transfiguration that one day. Tom was overwhelmed in new emotions that he didn't understand. Emotions other than anger and hate were signs of weakness! He had never felt a protectiveness or jealousy over someone. He had never felt drenched in guilt. When Tom would see Hermione laughing with Harry and touching Harry, Tom would feel a surge of something new. He didn't like this newfound emotion…

* * *

**_Hermione's POV_**

Hermione eagerly ate her dinner in the Great Hall. She was looking forward to her nightly walk; she had a lot on her mind at the moment and she was looking forward to sorting out her thoughts under the supervision of the moonlight and dancing stars.

"Slughorn's still mad at you, Hermione," Harry said, laughing. Hermione shook her head, falling out of her reverie, and looked at him with a mock-glare.

"Yes, but I still manage to gather points for Gryffindor," she countered. "He can't have Riddle answer everything. Though," she added thoughtfully, "he is still rather pissed off that I insulted his favorite student, and his little Club."

Harry chuckled and looked at the hourglass that signaled the House points for Gryffindor. "With all the questions you've answered, we're already at what we were at before you lost the hundred points, and Riddle doesn't get his Head Boy duties back for three more days." Harry said this with a very gleeful tone.

"Yeah, so I can take my nightly walks three more times," Hermione said, sparing a glance at the Slytherin table, where she was surprised to find Riddle looking at her with something less than a scowl. She death-glared at him and turned back to Harry, where she laughed at something he said.

Looking at her wristwatch, Hermione pushed aside her plate of half-eaten potatoes and steak-and-kidney pudding. She stood up and hugged Harry while saying, "Well, I'm going to walk now, see you in our room later, Harry."

Hermione felt that particular pair of eyes burning a hole in her head, but ignored it, knowing that Riddle would merely smirked if she looked at him again. She dodged an oncoming first year and maneuvered her way around a few Ravenclaws as she exited the Great Hall.

Hermione, having forgotten her cloak in her room, sighed and turned toward the direction of said room. She waved at a few familiar portraits as she turned the tight corners. When she finally reached the tapestry that signaled her hallway, she turned and walked toward her door. Frantically searching to see if anyone was around, she opened the door to her room when she saw nobody.

Her cloak was resting in her wardrobe, waiting to be taken out. Hermione grabbed it and crashed into someone right as she was about to step out of the doorway.

"Sorry, Hermione, but dinner ended and the hallways are crowded. Perhaps you should wait a few moments before you head out again," Harry said, picking himself up from the floor.

Hermione sighed and nodded while walking toward the smallish window on her left. She glanced out and stared at the biggest, brightest star.

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight," she whispered, closing her eyes, holding her breath as she made a wish. _I wish I could have a home again. I wish I could have happiness again. I wish I could have sunny skies again. Someday…_

She released her breath and opened her eyes as she finished her wish, but she stayed in her position for several more minutes until she was sure the hallways were cleared. At the said time, she bid yet another goodbye to Harry, pulled on her cloak, and headed out of the dormitory.

Hermione roamed the silent, abandoned hallways. Her feet lead the way, for she was clearing out her head. Her feet lead her down several staircases, round several corners, and through the entrance hall doors. Hermione shivered a bit as she felt the cold air rush onto her.

Hermione frowned a bit and closed her eyes. She suddenly felt dizzy. Her sides ached sharply and her breath ran short. Her skin was being injected by invisible needles and her head was splitting apart. Hermione's blood ran cold and she shivered. She gasped out, groping air as she tried to regain her composure. She failed. She fell to her knees and her eyes were seemingly bulging out as her mind closed in on memories from the Final Battle.

"_Norada Fivraldi!" someone shouted. Hermione looked in the direction of the sickly voice and saw an exasperated Bellatrix Lestrange. She had hit Ron; he was tumbling backward until he collapsed onto the floor. Hermione watched in horror as he rolled backwards, growing paler and paler. He hit the wall with a loud thunk. His green eyes were hidden since his ragged eyelids were closed, and his flame-red hair stood stilly on his head. _

_Suddenly, Hermione felt pain beyond pain. She could swear that her bones were being emblazoned with fire—her blood was seeping out of her—her head was on fire. She felt her heart being jabbed with unending knives. Her bones were crunching and the pain was unbearable! A cruel, merciless laugh could be heard over her mirthless screams. Then the pain ended. She was alive. Her body was numb from the contact with the torture, but she was fairly healthy. She looked up and saw Antonin Dolohov staring at her._

"_Ah, Potter, looking quite determined," Voldemort taunted, idly stroking his fingers. "But it will be no use. Avada Kedavra!" Hermione screamed. She closed her eyes, then abruptly opened them, remembering that anyone might attack her. But—she didn't see Harry on the floor! Instead, a dead Lupin was on the floor at Harry's heels and Voldemort looked down on him with an unsatisfied smile._

Back on Hogwarts grounds, Hermione suddenly felt the pain end. She shakily rose up off of the ground and looked around her. The trees swung in rhythmic sequences with the wind and the grass was woven normally. In the darkness of the sky, the moon shone brightly alongside the stars. Hermione was shaken up; she had never felt like that on any of her walks, and had most certainly never relived the night of the Final Battle.

Not finding much comfort in her walk anymore, Hermione treaded the opposite way back into the castle without so much as a backward glance.

Hermione headed back toward her room, figuring she'd explain what happened to Harry and just relax with him the rest of the night. However, when she turned the corner, she felt an ice-cold hand cover her mouth and another snake its way around her waist. She tried to scream, but the hold on her mouth only resulted in air loss and she was forced to close it.

She was pulled into an empty classroom by the person unknown and heard several locking charms. Hermione waited to her a silencing charm, but heard none and figured she could scream as soon as she got the chance. Too bad Harry probably wouldn't hear her from their room…

She was spun around rather rapidly and looked into stony, green eyes. The green-eyed person sidestepped from the shadows to reveal himself. He was a Slytherin, but Hermione could not place him. After all, she did not normally associate with _that_ lot.

Suddenly, about three other boys appeared at the Slytherin's side. They were all smirking and staring at her.

"Antoine Avery," the green-eyed boy said, smiling at her in an evil way. His green eyes—that looked disgustingly like Ron's—traveled her body at their own pace, smiling even wider.

"My face is up _here_, thanks," Hermione said bitterly, jabbing her hand toward her cheek. Antoine looked up at her.

"Feisty attitude, you've got," he commented. "Anyhow, shall I finish my introductions?" Pointing to a velvety-haired boy, he said, "This is Reversius Black. Slytherin seventh year, like the rest of us." Hermione took a moment to take in Reversius's appearance. This was obviously Sirius's grandfather; they looked uncannily alike.

"Lourdes Snape," Antoine continued, pointing to someone that was strikingly handsome, not at all like his descendant Severus. Hermione shook off these bad thoughts.

"And this," Antoine said dramatically, pointing at a head of blonde hair, "is someone I believe you've met before?"

Abraxas Malfoy smirked at Hermione's disgusted look. He took the charge as Antoine took part in staring hungrily at Hermione. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"You see, dear Skylar," Malfoy drawled, closing in on her but being slightly surprised when she did not flinch or back up, "our Tom has been acting different lately. Shall you explain, Reversius?"

Reversius gladly stepped forward. "Of course, Abraxas." Turning to Hermione and smiling, he said charmingly, "We have a sort of club, in Slytherin, Skylar—"

"The Death Eaters, yes, I know," Hermione said impatiently, tapping her foot. Reversius, along with the rest of the group, were stunned until Abraxas's face turned cold.

"Tom told you, didn't he?" he said angrily, stepping harshly on Hermione's foot to stop the tapping. It, to his annoyance, did not cease.

"No," Hermione replied, "I'm just very observant."

"Of course," Abraxas smiled, clearly not believing her. "Continue, Reversius."

Reversius took the lead again. "Yes, well, in our club, Tom is the leader. He is strong, intelligent, and extremely powerful. However," he added, inching closer to Hermione and scowling when she did not recoil in fear, "he's changed ever since a night eighteen days ago. Any idea why that might be, dear?"

Hermione racked her brain for the answer. Eighteen days—eighteen days—eighteen days—

The Astronomy Tower!

"No idea," Hermione lied easily, looking bored. "How am I supposed to know what goes on in that selfish little snake's mind?"

"You seemed to know about the name of our group," Abraxas pressed, looking her in the eye.

"I'm observant, I've told you!" Hermione said, feigning exasperation.

"Observant my arse!" Abraxas exclaimed. He glanced around her. "Or perhaps your arse, it's a very nice one by the way…"

Hermione slapped him before he could finish his complete sentence. "You keep your eyes where they belong," she said menacingly.

"I am," he replied, his eyes moved toward her chest area.

"Pervert," she muttered angrily.

"Perhaps," he responded. He turned around and nodded to the others. Before Hermione could comprehend what was happening, the boys had her in their arms and lifted her onto a hard, rough desk. Hermione tried to scream, but she was cast with a silencing charm and ropes tied her down.

As the boys moved in toward her, Abraxas yelled, "I get her this time!" The others looked highly affronted, especially Antoine. "We agreed, remember? Lourdes, you guard the door. Antoine, you guard the right end of the corridor, and Reversius the left. OUT!"

The boys scurried out of the room hurriedly, scared of the angry Malfoy.

Once the door was shut and re-locked (yet still un-Silenced, Hermione noticed), Malfoy sidled over toward where Hermione lay struggling against the ropes. He smirked at her and moved a lanky hand up to her face.

"Skylar, dear," he whispered huskily, sending shivers down her spine (though not in the good way). "It's just you and me now, and I'm going to enjoy my payback for whatever it is you've done with our Tom."

_I haven't done anything!_ Hermione wanted to say, but the silencing charm on her prevented it. She continued to struggle.

"Don't tense up, dear," Malfoy said tauntingly, stroking her soft curls. "It'll hurt you more. But don't worry; I'll try to be gentle…"

Hermione wanted to scream, she wanted to contact Harry any way possible! She had a feeling that Tom had cast these boys to rape her. She wanted to kill him!

Next time Hermione looked at Malfoy, his shirt was discarded and sprawled on the floor. Hermione did not dare look at his bare chest, knowing he'd be arrogant about it, so her gaze stayed on those steely silver eyes, her own coffee ones filled with hate.

"Accio Skylar's shirt!" Malfoy yelled, pointing his wand at Hermione. Hermione closed her eyes to prevent the tears from falling. However, her shirt did not leave her body. _I'm not Skylar! _she realized gratefully, thanking Merlin for his mercy.

"ACCIO SKYLAR'S SHIRT!" Malfoy tried again, more forcefully, but to no avail. He looked at Hermione's smirking face and seemed to hesitate but finally, in his frustration, un-Silenced her.

"You're despicable," Hermione said with as much disgust in her voice before she screamed with all her might. Even when Malfoy's hand clamped over her mouth, she continued to scream, even though it was muffled. He recast the charm to shut her up.

"You listen here," he said threateningly, "I'm untying you so I can get your clothes off of you. But I'm not even gonna try to un-Silence you, no, you blew your chance." He muttered a spell and Hermione was freed of the ropes. She ran to the door.

"No!" Malfoy screamed. He ran over to Hermione. She struggled in his grasp. "I'm not going to bother being gentle now," he said meanly. "You've been bad and you deserve it rough."

Hermione couldn't hold it any longer, she began to break down. Malfoy laughed at seeing her cry, for she was usually so strong.

"Come here," he said lustfully as he threw her shirt over her head. His eyes bulged at the sight of her in her bra. "You've covered them up nicely," he commented lightly. Hunger and lust shining through his eyes, he unbuttoned her jeans and threw them down as well. Hermione continued to cry as she felt his cold, unwelcome fingers stroke her soft flesh.

Next thing she knew, Malfoy's rough mouth was on hers. His hands roamed her body aggressively, grabbing in womanly places through her thin undergarments. He squeezed one of her breasts rapidly as his tongue thrashed against her teeth. He was ever persistent, but she refused to let him in.

Malfoy bit on her bottom lip, inhaling her blood. She gasped in pain and Malfoy shot his tongue into her mouth. Hermione was utterly disgusted. She was relieved when his mouth, after several moments, removed from her. She gasped for air and felt his hands cease their shameless exploring.

When she opened her eyes that were still blurry from her tears, she saw Malfoy clad in nothing but silver, silk boxers that contrasted horribly with his pale skin tone. He resumed his spot where his body was thrust onto hers and his hands dug down under the seam of the cloth that covered the place that belonged to only hers.

He atrociously licked her neck with his abominable tongue, nipping unpleasantly in some spots. His hand slid from the spot where he had no access to, up her flat stomach, grasping certain parts of her flesh harshly. His tongue slid down to her bra, sucking on the part of the breast that was not covered as his hands helped themselves to handfuls of whatever he could grasp. Hermione felt her only clothing being torn off of her and her tears fell at a more rapid pace. His tongue moved to her face and he roughly licked each one off.

"Crying won't do you any good, dear," he said hoarsely, his breathing ragged and his hands still roaming her body.

She continued to cry. Hermione was now fully naked and she watched with fury as Malfoy's eyes let themselves search every piece of her, his smirk only increasing as they moved downward. He lowered his hands to his own boxers, preparing to pull them down—

"GET AWAY FROM HER, YOU SLIMY, SELFISH LITTLE SNAKE!"

Hermione turned, her tears never ceasing, as she looked at her rescuer. She saw a head of black, untidy hair and vibrant green eyes behind round spectacles. Harry had saved her!

"How'd you undo the locking spells and get past my guards?" Malfoy asked, his voice shaking slightly as he stood in his silver boxers.

"Living with her for almost seven years can do that to you," Harry replied more-than-angrily and very confidently as his head gestured toward the naked Hermione. Seeing her crying, shaking state, he rushed over to her and shielded her from Malfoy's eyes.

Harry threw several painful and powerful curses at Malfoy before he could react. Malfoy stumbled on the floor, unconscious, and Harry turned to Hermione. Seeing as she was mouthing words but not speaking, he produced the counter-charm for a silencer and she immediately rushed into his arms. Harry felt her breasts on him, but he thought nothing of it as he thought of what would have happened if he hadn't arrived when he did.

Hermione wasn't embarrassed in the slightest about holding Harry in her arms while she was completely nude. She just felt immensely grateful that he had come.

"Harry…how'd you know?" she managed to ask through gasping and sobbing. Harry released himself from her arms and put her torn clothes on her body since she was shaking too violently to do it herself.

"I thought I heard a scream. It sounded so real and I thought I was dreaming. But when I looked around and noticed you weren't in your bed, I ran all over the castle looking for you. When I saw those Slytherins guarding the corridor, I hexed them and came in. Oh, thank God you're alright!" he finished.

Together they left Malfoy unconscious on the floor (Harry had said he'd wake up eventually) and walked out. They were two floors away from their own rooms when they ran into none other than Tom Riddle. Harry glared at him furiously.

"HOW DARE YOU!" he screeched, still holding the crying and shaking Hermione in his arms. She didn't even glance up at Tom.

Tom noticed Hermione, the torn clothes she wore, and the state she was in and was immediately flooded over with concern. "What happened to her?" he asked worriedly, not noticing Harry's angry face until Harry shoved his wand right in between Tom's two eyes.

"Don't play dumb," he said in a scary, dangerous voice. "You obviously sent your little Death Eater pals to rape her!"

Tom's heart stopped beating when Harry said those words. He glanced at Hermione and his breathing shallowed. "I—they—what—rape?"

"YES!" Harry screamed, not caring about what teachers he might attract. "Your stupid little friends cornered her, dragged her into a classroom, tore off her clothes, and stood guard as fucking Malfoy molested her! If I hadn't arrived when I did, she'd have been full-on raped! Don't even _TRY_ to tell me you had nothing to do with it!"

"I—I didn't," Tom stuttered for the first time in his life. "I'm going to kill them," he mumbled to himself and ran down the corridor to find the said Slytherins. They were in serious trouble. He knew why he was feeling so concerned and angry, and he couldn't deny it anymore: he _liked_ Hermione.

* * *

This chapter was incredibly hard to write; I feel so bad for Hermione! She just can't have a good chapter, can she? Oh well. She'll be happy next chapter, I hope. Haha. This one made my eyes water:( Anyhow, please review! I like reviews!

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	13. Twelve: The Truth: In All Aspects

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out. Eventual TR/HG._

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot. And last chapter, I got the meanings of the names from _

**Words this Chapter: **_5,037

* * *

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**CHAPTER TWELVE**

The Truth...In All Aspects

* * *

_**Tom's POV**_

Tom's dark hair, which incidentally was the color of a fresh Polyjuice Potion, flipped loftily as his feet ran full-speed toward the direction where Hermione and Harry had just emerged from.

He visibly cringed. He remembered the sight of Hermione in Harry's arms, shaking and sobbing. Her clothes were ripped in places, as if they were torn off of her shaking body. Knowing Malfoy, that's probably what happened. As much as Tom hated to admit this, he was absolutely grateful that Harry had held Hermione so closely. He knew that was why she wasn't as worked up as a raped person usually was. But, then again, she wasn't full-on raped, and Tom would have to thank Harry immensely for ensuring that.

Tom felt his eyes flash a red as he found the body of Antoine Avery lying unconscious in the middle of a corridor. Tom kicked him with all his might. He wanted him to hurt, to suffer. He muttered a reawakening spell on him and watched grimly as Avery shifted into a sitting position, rubbing his head as though he were in pain. He looked up at Tom and smirked.

"Hello, Lord Voldemort," he said casually. However, he noticed the spark of over-angriness in Tom's eyes and he cowered back.

"You're going to pay," Tom threatened seriously, "You're going to pay badly. Come with me."

It was not a request. Avery, still frightened greatly, followed with a sense of foreboding as Tom woke up Lourdes Snape and Reversius Black. Tom angrily pushed open the classroom door that held a bloody and unconscious Abraxas Malfoy.

After all the Slytherins were reawakened, Tom grabbed a random book and threw it straight at Malfoy.

"What the bloody hell do you think you were doing?" Tom screeched after casting a Silencer on the room. He threw another book that hit the unlucky Lourdes Snape.

"We were only doing you a favor, Master," said the cowering Avery.

"A favor? A FAVOR!" Tom bellowed angrily. "What kind of favor, might I ask, were you doing? In case you haven't realized, I'm trying to find out about Skylar and Astin! And with you four going out and raping her, leading her to the assumption that _I_ sent you to do it, is NOT helping!"

Tom paced and in his fury, shot the Cruciatus, wanting someone to hurt for what they did to Hermione. Malfoy got hit and his screams punctured the air. Tom watched mercilessly until he finally lifted his wand away from the blonde in pain.

"I'm—I'm sorry, my lord," Malfoy gasped.

"I do not forgive, Abraxas, as you should know by now," Tom responded dismissively. "Listen, I'm bored of playing games. Let me get to the point." He dropped his voice to a menacing whisper, still bearing his rage. "If any of you, or anyone else for that matter, lay a hand on Skylar, you'll have me to deal with. And I will be a hell of a lot angrier than I am now."

With that, Tom turned on his heel and sauntered out.

* * *

_**Hermione's POV**_

Hermione continued to cry as she and Harry walked to their quarters. Harry whispered consolingly soft things in her ear, carrying her as she shook and sobbed. She was chilling and she shivered as frosty air seeped onto her Malfoy-tainted skin through the holes in her clothing. She ignored Riddle the entire time Harry yelled at him, suffering in her own little world. At the moment, she only wanted to cry and shower and kill Riddle. It seemed very tempting.

Harry rubbed her soothingly as she used his shoulder as a sponge for her sopping eyes. Soon, she was being dumped onto a bed gently.

"Hermione," Harry's loving voice said. "Hermione, you can shower or you can rest…but either way, feel better, I love you."

Hermione tried to smile, because she knew that she loved him like a brother more than she ever had. "Thank you," she managed before walking toward the bathroom for a nice, warm shower.

She stripped off her torn clothes and immediately disposed of them, not wanting to ever be reminded of how she got them. However, as she stared at her baby-soft skin in the mirror, she couldn't help but feel disgusting. Malfoy's lanky hands had touched her _there_—her eyes roamed down—and _there_—her eyes darted down yet—and _there_—and her eyes reached a point where she felt like vomiting as she remembered the feeling of his unpleasant fingertips stroking her _there_.

She hastily wandered into the shower, unable to look at her contaminated body, letting the water wash away her tear-tainted skin. Hermione scrubbed harshly at her body, washing away the infectivity that Malfoy's hands had left on her.

After a soothing twenty-minute shower, Hermione stumbled into bed, thanking the Gods that they had blessed her with Harry.

The next day, as Harry and Hermione headed toward the Great Hall for breakfast, Hermione begged Harry not to make her go in the Great Hall.

"Hermione," Harry said seriously, "This is exactly what they want! To make you scared to face them. Don't be cowardly! Be strong! We've been through graver things than this, and you can make it through because you're Hermione Granger. You're just…strong!"

Hermione blushed at the compliments. "But, Harry…"

She wavered at Harry's stern glare. He really needed her to be strong right now, and she was going to do it. For Harry. Inhaling a large breath, she nodded and pushed open the door, laughing animatedly with Harry as though absolutely nothing had happened.

She saw, discreetly out of the corner of her eye, that the seventh-year Slytherins were watching her rather closely. Malfoy had a tentative smirk on his face, almost as if he was expecting her to blush and cry or something of that sort.

However, Hermione held strong and did not do so. She continued to laugh and chat with Harry about such-and-such and would take furtive glances at the Slytherins every so often.

After about her sixth sneak-peek, she noticed that Snape, Avery, and Black had lost interest. Malfoy was looking quite put out. To Hermione's shock, Tom was looking softly at her and then he'd turn to Malfoy and look angry.

Was it possible that he hadn't sent those slimy snakes to rape her? Did they do it on their own accord?

_No,_ Hermione told herself sternly. Just as she was about to dwell on it further, Dumbledore came striding over to her and Harry. He looked positively gleeful about something. Harry and Hermione looked at each other for an answer, but both shrugged.

Dumbledore's hurried strides captivated plenty of attention throughout the Hall. As he grew closer and closer, Harry and Hermione grew more curious.

Finally, he was right behind them. He glanced around the Gryffindor Table, then at the entire Hall, and noticed that he had captured the attention of almost everyone. He said, in his usual, jovially loud voice, "In my office, if you please? I have found something you two might find interesting." The twinkle in his eye could be seen from a mile away.

Harry and Hermione exchanged another confused look and a shrug, and together the three left the Great Hall, faintly hearing the whispers trailing behind them.

As they entered the Transfiguration classroom, Dumbledore shut the door behind them and locked it, along with casting a Silencing Charm.

"Before I show you my revelation, I must ask: Do you two even want to return to your time?" Dumbledore looked at them inquisitively, waiting patiently as they contemplated their answer. Hermione spoke first.

"Well, sir—I can't really say that I do. Unless things change, of course. If the course of history is changed enough to prevent what happened back at home, then I would be delighted to return. Otherwise, I must say no; there's not a home to go to." She looked down at her shoes quietly, wondering where the conversation was going.

"I agree with Hermione," Harry said. His legs shifted. "I can't say I want to go back—unless things change—but I don't want to stay here either. It feels like we don't belong anywhere; on any part of the timeline. I feel like an outcast no matter what time we're positioned in."

"As do I," Hermione piped up. "I agree with Harry completely."

Dumbledore seemed to be studying them, his brain gears working hard. "I see. I can understand where those opinions come from, most certainly. If—if it isn't too much, would you two be able to explain to me the gist of your lifetimes?" Glancing at Hermione, he added, "Magical lifetimes, I mean?"

Hermione didn't even want to ask how he knew of her bloodlines. Probably from Slughorn or something. Glancing at Harry, she saw he was looking pale, yet a light shade of green.

"Sir, wouldn't that ruin the timeline?" she asked.

"Yes, it would, my dear," he answered evasively. "But you two have said it yourself—you want the timeline to change. Awful things happen to time-meddlers, if used selfishly. However, if it to change the world for the better, you must simply be careful. Besides, your mere presence affects the timeline. Now, if you will, explain the course of your life to me?"

"I'll explain everything," she said shakily. She swiftly caught Harry's thankful glance, and she took in a large breath.

"This year, you will defeat Grindelwald," Hermione started. She saw Dumbledore's pleased look. "Thinking about it now, I realize we may help. However, I'm not sure. A Skylar Broston and Astin Mottell were never in the history books. But I'm getting sidetracked. Anyway, Grindelwald will be defeated. A few years after graduation, Tom Riddle will become Lord Voldemort. Voldemort is going to grow to be the worst and most feared wizard our world has ever known."

"Was that the dark wizard you spoke of during your arrival?" Dumbledore interjected. Hermione nodded. Dumbledore looked livid.

"I don't know what happens until 1975. Voldemort will be at large then, during one of his most powerful periods. A man named James Potter, Harry's father, will be in his sixth year of school, along with some people named Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and Peter Pettigrew. The four boys will be the best of friends and James will have a massive crush on Lily. It won't be until one year later, in their seventh year, that Lily agrees to go out with James. After graduation, Lily and James got married. In 1978, the couple, Remus, Sirius, and Peter were still the best of friends. What they didn't know was that Peter was really working for Voldemort as a spy. Around those years, I'm not quite sure which; a prophecy was made by Sybil Phyllis Trelawney and recited to you, Albus Percival Wulfur (?) Brian Dumbledore. I'm not sure of the exact words, but it mainly said that as the seventh month dies (the end of July), a boy will be born to a couple who have thrice defied Voldemort. However, this boy will know a power that the dark lord knows not. And, neither can live while the other survives, so one has to die at the hands of the other. The prophecy could have applied to two people. Harry, here, was one. The other was a good friend of ours, Neville Longbottom. However, Voldemort seemed to consider Harry more worthy of being his equal, and sidestepped Neville as just another ordinary boy."

Hermione took a deep breath and after glancing at Harry, who seemed interested in his loafers, continued. "Harry was born in 1980 to, obviously, Lily and James Potter. Voldemort found out about the prophecy from one of his followers. However, they failed to tell him about how Harry will know "power the Dark Lord knows not." So Voldemort set off after Lily and James sometime between 1980 and 1981 in order to kill Harry. Lily and James found out about this and went into hiding at Godric's Hollow. They made Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, the Secret-Keeper by using the Fidelus Charm. They knew there was a spy in their ranks, but they were unsure who. However, at the very last minute, they switched the Secret-Keeper to Peter Pettigrew, feeling that Voldemort would never think that they used Pettigrew. However, very few knew about the switch. So then Peter sealed their fate and turned them into Voldemort. Voldemort arrived at Godric's Hollow when Harry was a year old. James stalled, telling Lily to leave with Harry. However, James was killed and Lily had not escaped. Voldemort told her to step aside, but she refused. She ended up dying to save Harry. Because of this, the Killing Curse rebounded off of him and onto Voldemort. Voldemort disappeared that night, not dead, but not alive, because he used Horcruxes to gain immortality.

"Meanwhile, Sirius Black realized that Peter was the spy, so he went to Godric's Hollow, hoping to stop Peter. But it was too late, the damage was already done. Sirius confronted Peter in a Muggle street, but Peter framed him. He shouted for the whole street to hear that Sirius had betrayed James and Lily since he was known to be the Secret-Keeper and then he blew up the street and cut off of his finger, making it seem like Sirius had done it, and used to finger to make it seem like that was the only remain of Pettigrew left. Peter then transformed into a rat. He was an unregistered Animagus, along with Sirius and James, because Remus was a werewolf and they wanted to help him in their school days. Anyway, back at the alleyway, twelve Muggles were killed and Sirius was chucked into Azkaban.

"Anyhow, Hagrid—yes, the one in the hut by the Forest—found Harry alone at Godric's Hollow and gave him to you. You then sent him with his foul Muggle aunt and uncle, Lily's sister and brother-in-law. Harry grew up with the Dursleys and had no idea of his magical talents until he was eleven. To make this long story shorter, the Dursleys hated Harry and refused to tell him until they were forced by Hagrid, who appeared to give Harry his letter. Harry then started his first year at Hogwarts.

"I grew up as a Muggle as well, since my parents are Muggles. I received my letter, eager to learn about this magical world, and I started my first year at Hogwarts same as Harry. Harry met Ron Weasley at Platform 9 ¾ and the two hit it off. I came into their compartment on the train, asking if they'd seen Neville's toad. At first they didn't like me because I was snooty and bookish and they didn't like that. I was made fun of until Halloween, when a troll was let into Hogwarts. Harry and Ron saved me, and we had formed a friendship. Later on in the year, toward the end actually, we discovered the Sorceror's Stone, which was hidden at Hogwarts because it was almost stolen at Gringotts. We thought our Potions Master, Severus Snape, was trying to steal it so we took matters into our own hands. We got past a three-headed dog, Devil's Snare, flying keys, a life-size Wizard's Chess board, and a Potions riddle. In the end, Harry went on alone. In the room, he found not Snape, but our stuttering Defense professor, Quirrell. Turns out Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort. In the end, Harry beat him and Quirrell died, leaving Voldemort lifeless yet again.

"In second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Muggle-borns were petrified, including me, but not before I hinted on what was inside the Chamber of Secrets. With my help, Harry and Ron went down there with our fraud Defense professor. Turns out that Ron's little sister, a first year named Ginny, was possessed by Tom Riddle's diary and she was the one who opened the Chamber. Harry left Ron and Lockhart (the professor) to keep them away from danger while he went on to save Ginny. He ended up destroying the diary (which was given to Ginny by the smarmy Lucius Malfoy) and the basilisk and saving Ginny. In third year, we come back to Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black. Sirius escaped from Azkaban, and was the first to ever do so. Harry overheard people saying that he was after him. Remus, meanwhile, was our Defense professor that year. A lot happened that year, but let me shorten it by saying that we discovered the Marauder's Map, a map made by James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter to detect every person in the school. We also discovered, one day in Hogsmeade, that Sirius was Harry's godfather and that he betrayed his parents. Well, one day, Hagrid's hippogriff, Buckbeak, was scheduled for execution and we went down to comfort Hagrid. We found Scabbers, Ron's rat who had gone missing, and Ron bit him so we went running after him. A big black dog, like the Grim, bit Ron's leg and dragged him into the tunnel below the Whomping Willow, a tree made over the Shrieking Shack for Remus to go during full moons. After getting beat up by the tree a bit, my cat pushed the knot to immobilize the tree and, accidentally leaving Harry's invisibility cloak behind, we went in. We found Sirius Black and we were mad that he had betrayed Harry's parents so badly so Harry drew his wand. Remus came in and disarmed Harry. I was mad that he embraced Sirius, so I told Ron and Harry that he was a werewolf. He told me I was the brightest witch of my age for figuring out the signs, and soon Snape came in. He wouldn't let us talk, so the three of us (Harry, Ron, and I) disarmed him and he fell unconscious. Sirius and Remus made Peter transform into a human, because he was really disguised as Ron's rat, Scabbers. Soon we believed them and were mad at Pettigrew and we left the Shrieking Shack. It was the full moon and Remus, not having taken the Wolfsbane Potion, transformed. Sirius went back into his dog form and fought the werewolf. Peter escaped as a rat, knocking out Ron. When Remus ran into the forest, Harry and I followed Sirius. There were around one hundred dementors suddenly and next thing we knew, Harry and I woke up in the Hospital Wing and we found out that Sirius was scheduled to get the Dementor's Kiss any moment. We pleaded you to let us help, and you told us to use my time-turner—which I had used during third year for extra classes—to save Buckbeak. We did, and Sirius escaped with him. We now end third year."

Hermione inhaled an extra large breath. She, however, was forced to continue so she did. "Fourth year. Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang participated in the Triwizard Tournament, hosted at Hogwarts. However, after the three champions were selected, the Goblet of Fire erupted another name. Harry's. He had to go through all of the tasks. During the last one, Cedric and Harry both grabbed the Triwizard Cup. It turned out to be a portkey and they were transported to a graveyard. Pettigrew came out and was holding what looked like an inhuman baby. They killed Cedric because he was a 'spare' and tied Harry up to Tom Riddle Sr.'s tombstone. Then Pettigrew made a potion, and Voldemort rose. He now had a real body. Since Harry's blood was part of the concoction, he was no longer protected and Voldemort could touch him. They dueled that night and Priori Incantatum happened. Harry's parents, along with Cedric, had their shadows erupt from the wand. They lingered to let Harry grab Cedric's body and grab the Portkey, returning to Hogwarts. Later that night, we found out that our Defense professor, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, was really locked up in a trunk for the whole year and an imposter, Barty Crouch Jr., was using the Polyjuice Potion to disguise as Moody. He was killed, losing all evidence of Harry's story that Voldemort had returned to power.

"The summer after, the Ministry of Magic had been trying to deny Voldemort's return, turning you into a crazy old fool and Harry into an attention-seeking storyteller. That school year, everyone believed the Ministry and hardly anyone believed Harry (or you). That year, an absolutely foul woman from the Ministry, Dolores Umbridge, was our Defense professor—"

"Excuse me for my interruption," Dumbledore said, "but why do the criminals of the year each seem to be your Defense professor?"

"Well, ever since you denied the job to Tom Riddle, it was jinxed so that no teacher lasted longer than a year," Harry answered, not looking up. Hermione beamed at him for not throwing up.

"Yes. Anyway," Hermione said, "Umbridge was our professor but she wouldn't let us actually use spells in her classroom and she always accused Harry of lying. So behind her back, we formed the D.A., which stood for Defense Association, or Dumbledore's Army, because the Ministry was scared you'd form an army against them. Harry was the teacher and we'd have meetings throughout the year. One day, a girl ratted us out, and you ended up being suspended from the school. Well, me and Harry led Umbridge to the Forest, where she was attacked by centaurs. Then, Harry got a vision that saved Ron's dad's life—well, that was before the whole Umbridge thing, but still. It saved Mr. Weasley's life. All year, Harry had been getting visions about a long corridor in the Department of Mysteries because his scar connects him to Voldemort. Voldemort realized this, and at the end of the year, made Harry think that they'd captured Sirius—who was like Harry's father now—in the Department of Mysteries. Harry, Ron, and I—along with three of our friends—rode Thestrals there and we found out that Sirius wasn't there and we were lured there. We ended up fighting the Death Eaters, who wanted the prophecy that I told you about. However, Neville smashed it and Voldemort came and dueled with you, professor. He then fled and Sirius was killed by his cousin Bellatrix, who threw him into the Veil. When we all returned to Hogwarts, you finally told Harry about the Prophecy.

"Last year; sixth year. We were all still broken from the Department of Mysteries fiasco, but we survived. That year, you started confiding in Harry with more and more, since you knew the consequences of keeping things from him, and he confided in Ron and me. You began to show him tidbits of Tom Riddle's past through a Pensieve. Harry, meanwhile, began to grow suspicious of Draco Malfoy, our arch enemy, and Severus Snape, our Defense teacher that year. However, we only told him he was being paranoid. We learned, after that year, to trust anything Harry said, because he was right. Anyway, you began to tell Harry about Horcruxes and he was forced to get a memory from Slughorn, our Potions master, taking Snape's place. He finally received the memory. Then, you and Harry set out to fetch a Horcrux, hoping to destroy it. You had to drink a horrible potion to get it, and when you finally returned to Hogwarts you saw the Dark Mark hovering over the Astronomy Tower. Weakened, you went up there with Harry, who was wearing his Invisibility Cloak. Death Eaters were running around the school because Draco Malfoy had let them in, confirming Harry's previous suspicions. Draco met us in the Astronomy Tower while Harry was under the invisibility cloak immobilized, because you immobilized him so he wouldn't do anything rash. He had to watch as you and Draco chit-chatted, Draco bragging about his plan to kill you. However, he couldn't seem to do it and Snape came in. You were begging him, the first time anyone could remember you actually begging, but Snape—he—he—he killed you!"

At this, Hermione burst into tears. However, shakily, she continued. "That's when we found out that he was a traitor, along with Draco. They fled and then, as if your d-death wasn't enough, Harry found out that the Horcrux you two fetched was fake. So you died for nothing when you could have lived. It was this year, in the very beginning, when McGonagall decided to open the school, that the Final Battle happened. I'd—I'd rather not relive that night…"

Hermione broke off, sobbing and shaking. She felt Harry wrap his arms around her and she could feel Dumbledore peering over at her.

"That is—er—some life you two—Harry especially—have been through," was all Dumbledore could say. He was dumbfounded, to say the least. Here were two young, intelligent, strong, seventeen year olds and they had endured what some people his age didn't have to go through. It was unfair, was what it was.

"I don't know if this will make you feel any better," he said, "but—would you like a Lemon Drop?"

Hermione rose from Harry's arms and just looked at him. As he held the bag of candy out, she literally burst out laughing. She ran over to the man and hugged him. In a grandfatherly way, he patted her back.

"Is that a yes, dear?"

Hermione laughed again and grabbed one of the sweet-but-sour candies.

"Anyway, I've realized something about your past—er—future—er—whatever it is," he said, trying to lighten the mood. He saw them look questioningly at him. "It is not going on without you. It is impossible for two times to clash with each other, therefore it is an impossibility that your old life is continuing. This means that it has either evaporated and that you will be stuck here for your lifetimes, or that it has frozen in place. If that is so, you will resume your position there when you return—if you return. Unless, of course, the timeline is changed because of you two, then you will resume the position that the future has changed into. Does that make sense?"

Hermione nodded and Harry nodded as well.

"Very well, you two may be off. Thank you for confiding in me," Dumbledore said sincerely.

"We'd trust you with our life, sir," Hermione said seriously. She and Harry walked out. Hermione was still in tears, but she wasn't sad about explaining her past anymore. She felt better that she had released her feelings.

* * *

**_Tom's POV _**

Tom watched worriedly as he heard the Great Hall doors open. He recognized Harry's voice, which could only mean he was talking to Hermione. (W_ho else could he be talking to?_ Tom asked himself sarcastically.)

However, when she entered, she looked happy. She was chatting animatedly with Harry and her white teeth shined brightly as she laughed. He cast a look at Malfoy and the others who had cornered her the previous night. He saw the disinterest in Snape, Avery, and Black. He was pleased to note the disappointment in Malfoy's eyes.

Tom wanted to rush over to Hermione and just hold her. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry that his Slytherin dormmates were big arseholes. He wanted to tell her that he had nothing to do with it.

What surprised Tom the most was that he didn't want to shake these thoughts off. He liked the way they sounded. He'd never cared about anyone before and she brought new thoughts to him. Because of this mysterious girl, he no longer wanted to become a monster. He remembered the night where she said that everything she held dear to her was destroyed by an evil wizard, worse than Grindelwald. That's exactly what Tom aspired to be. But after seeing this girl that he was slowly falling for suffer so intensely by something he once wanted to be, he found he despised the previous dream. He wanted to kill whoever hurt his Hermione. He wanted her to be happy.

He watched with mild interest as Dumbledore ushered Hermione and Harry out. He noticed their confused faces and his interest grew. He left the Hall not long after. He paced behind them secretly.

As Dumbledore cast the Silencer on the room, Tom stood outside waiting. He couldn't help himself to his new thoughts. He imagined Hermione's beautiful chestnut hair and running his hands through it. He imagined her coffee eyes staring into his midnight ones, begging for love and affection. He'd give it to her. He imagined her lips, pink and swollen, kissing his passionately in front of the fireplace. He imagined romantic candles and flowers ambushing them. Tom never knew he could be so romantic. It was creepy.

He was pushed out of long, tantalizing thoughts some twenty minutes later as the door opened. He saw Hermione crying and immediately wanted to hurt Dumbledore for making her cry. Whatever he said to Hermione, Tom did not like it.

On impulse, he rushed over to her. "Hermione, are you okay?" he asked softly. Hermione looked up at him, fury and confusedness in her eyes.

"I had nothing to do with last night, you have to believe me," he said, desperation clinging onto his vocal chords. Tom tried to ignore the piercing look Harry was giving him.

"How can I believe you?" Hermione asked shakily. "You've never been nice to me."

Tom shuddered at those words. She was right. "I know," he said, hanging his head. "I'm sorry. But I want to murder Malfoy for what he did to you."

Hermione looked at him calculatingly. Looking up at Harry, she had a silent conversation with him using their eyes. She then turned around coldly and walked away from Tom.

Tom, knowing that this was his only chance to, caught up to her.

"Please believe me, Hermione," he said as he stopped her strides with his arm.

Hermione opened her mouth to undoubtedly yell at him, but when she did, Tom placed his mouth onto hers in a soft, sweet, romantic kiss. The first ever for Tom.

And, to his surprise, she did not pull away.

* * *

Haha, you guys are probably so happy I added the romance now, huh? I bet you all want to kill me for waiting twelve chapters, don't you? Haha, I'm sorry! ( : Anyhow, I hope I didn't bore you with the extremely long descriptions of her school years, but I had to add it. Gah, that took forever. Sorry for the longer-than-usual wait, too. I hope you liked it!

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	14. Thirteen:When We Realize What We've Done

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out. Eventual TR/HG._

**Disclaimer: **_Nothing belongs to me except the plot. And last chapter, I got the meanings of the names from _

**Words this Chapter: **3,267

* * *

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

When We Realize What We've Done

* * *

_**Hermione's POV**_

Hermione didn't exactly register anything other than the feeling of a man's lips on her. The lips were cold, yet so warm, tender, inviting. She opened her mouth and entranced his tongue by circling hers professionally along his lips. He licked her tongue and massaged it with his own. Hermione didn't even notice when his arms placed themselves around her waist, pulling her closer. She idly felt her hands ruffle that hair…that soft, dark hair. She let out a moan when he nibbled tantalizingly on her lower lip.

The instant she did, she regretted it. Her brain, which currently seemed to have "SHIT!" on repeat, had finally used what it was best at and she began to think. She was kissing Tom Riddle! Young Voldemort! Dark-Lord-to-be! Even worse, she realized with a sense of dread, she was kissing the man who'd ruin her life and the life of so many others—in front of Harry.

Harry...

Hermione spun around, ignoring the confusion in Tom's eyes. Harry seemed like he was trying very hard not to hex something. Hermione noticed a red flash in his eyes, but it was gone so instantaneously that she was sure she had imagined it.

Through clenched teeth, Harry grabbed her arm and said, "A word, Hermione."

Without hesitation, Hermione followed, sending a last glance at Tom. To her dismay, he had already stormed off down the hall the opposite way. She vaguely noticed his feet pounded a little hardly than normally.

Harry literally dragged her across every hallway, his anger pouring off of him in waves. Hermione staggered as he tightly turned corners and she almost tripped on two separate staircases.

When they reached the hallway of their dormitory, Harry heatedly checked to see if anyone was around, and when the test proved negative, he shoved her into their bedroom and locked the door. Hermione, who had been pushed onto Harry's bed, shakily got up. There were tears in her eyes that Harry apparently failed to see.

"What the bloody hell were you doing?" Harry stormed at her, looking out of the window. His face held an emotion she was unsure of.

"I—he started it!" Hermione stuttered unsteadily, rubbing her arm where she hit the bedpost rather roughly.

"You were kissing him back! I had to watch that disgusting match of tongue hockey!" Harry raged angrily. "And—Hermione, it was Voldemort! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Hermione gasped. He had never used such vulgar language in his life, as far as she knew. Even worse were his accusations. Sure, she had kissed him back, but she broke it apart, hadn't she? She may have taken a short while, but she ended it! And he had to go and ask what was wrong with _her_?

Harry snapped his head toward her when he heard her sobbing. He saw her head in her hands. His expression instantly softened and he walked over to her gently. "Hermione, I—"

"No!" Hermione screamed, startling Harry. As he moved to touch her arm, she backed away, bearing her wand at him. His eyes widened and he looked at her inquiringly. "Get away from me!"

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!" Harry exclaimed desperately.

"Yes, you did!" she yelled back at him. "You asked what's wrong with me? I'll tell you what's goddamn wrong!" Harry visibly gasped at her language.

Hermione took no notice. She stood up and began pacing the room. "Where should I begin, Harry? Should I begin with the fact that I have lost all my parents and friends? Should I begin with the minor detail that we were thrown fifty four years into the past? Should I begin with the little aspect that I was practically raped by the grandfathers of people we know and hate? Should I begin with the fact that I've lost my fiancée? Where should I begin, Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth, gaping like a fish. Finding nothing to say, he closed it. "I—er—fiancée?"

"YES!" Hermione screamed, venting out everything that had been building up inside of her. She grabbed the ring from her skirt pocket and shoved it carefully onto her finger. "See this, Harry?" she asked rhetorically, thrusting her ring finger into his face. "Ron and I were engaged! We planned to tell you the day after the battle! But then he—he—he died!"

Hermione collapsed onto the floor in a heap of sobs. Harry crouched down next to her and tenderly placed his arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Hermione…," he said. "I—I didn't know…"

"I know," Hermione said, choking on sobs. "When Riddle kissed me…it didn't even occur to me that it was Voldemort. To me, it was someone who cared about me enough to kiss me. After Ron died, I—I guess I just—I don't know—I guess I just didn't think anyone else would know how to care about me romantically. Riddle's kiss wasn't like Malfoy's, it was soft, gentle, and caring…the complete opposite of Riddle himself! I guess I just thought I was in Ron's arms again…" However, she knew this was not the reason. Kissing Tom made her think about something. She wasn't in love of course, (heavens no!) but she could swear that she felt something there. She knew from his kiss that Tom sure did.

She broke down into more sobs. Harry mistook this as a sign of missing Ron and patted her back soothingly and played with her hair. "Hermione, I miss Ron too. I miss Ginny. You know I loved her. Voldemort knew it too. That's why he killed her. I know how you feel. This is something we've just got to get through, and we will. We're strong, Hermione."

Hermione smiled a watery smile and leaned into him, ignoring her internal conflict. "Thanks, Harry."

"It's what I'm here for," Harry responded. Now come on, it's Saturday, let's go outside or something."

Hermione decided to keep the ring on.

* * *

_**Tom's POV**_

Tom was, admittedly, in a state of bliss. His arms snaked through her hair which, for its bushiness, was amazingly soft. He had never kissed somebody before; her lips were so enticing. If he knew that kissing was like this, he would have done it long ago! He sniffed in her lovely scent; vanilla and raspberries. He began using his tongue to play with her mouth as he wrapped his arms around her. Although they were body to body, they were not yet close enough…

In a horrible instant, Hermione backed away from Tom. He looked at her confusedly, wanting—no, needing—more of her. He was also hurt, though he wouldn't dare admit it, not even to himself. She had been leading him on, was she? She had let him enter her mouth and he kissed her with such tenderness, such passion, until she decided it was leading to too much and would stop then? Tom grew angry and was about to confront her, but she turned to Harry. Harry! He heard Harry angrily mutter something to Hermione, and that was it. Tom was so furious, he stalked off. He felt a pair of sorry eyes glancing at him, but he wouldn't look at her.

Tom stormed around the school, not really sure where he was going. He organized his thoughts as he glared at any passing students. Even though he wanted to believe that Hermione had lead him on (for reasons he knew not), he couldn't bring himself to truly think that that was the case. He felt the way she kissed him; with fervor, with passion, with—not lust—but, need? Desperation? Luscious want? Tom couldn't place it, but he wanted to fluster her more. He wanted to kiss her. Maybe more. And Tom Riddle always got what he wanted.

With this encouraging thought in mind, Tom strolled out onto the grounds. He figured he could try to brew that potion for immortality in his little alcove, before he remembered that Hermione's life had been destroyed by something that potion would enable him to be. He didn't want to turn into something that had killed her spirit.

Tom wandered out the Entrance Hall doors and walked by the lake, forgetting about his alcove. He wanted Hermione, he knew it. He wanted to find a way to convince her that she wanted him too!

However, Tom crashed right into someone. Startled and angry, he looked into the eyes of Abraxas Malfoy.

"What do you want?" Tom asked irritably. He turned around to walk away, but Malfoy caught his arm. Tom's eyes flashed before he faced the blonde, who looked angry.

"Why can't we hurt her?" Malfoy asked bluntly. Tom didn't need to ask who he was referring to. "She fucking deserves it, Riddle, and you know it! I don't know why you're so intent on not harming her, but we think—"

"You contradict my orders?" Tom hissed menacingly. Malfoy's eyes held a trace of fear but he wiped them away with defiance.

"I wouldn't call it contradicting, really…," Malfoy answered sounding very confident.

"I don't care what _you_ think," Tom interrupted. "It's what_ you_ think that got the Slytherin pride tapped down a notch! It's what _you_ think that got all hopes of finding out about Her—Skylar to zero! It's what _you_ think that's getting you yelled at right now, Abraxas!"

Malfoy looked to the floor. "I'm sorry, Lord Voldemort," he said ashamedly.

"And _enough_ with that _name_!" Tom yelled exasperatedly, conjuring a stone and throwing it at nothing. "It's hideous, is what it is!"

With that, Tom, without even realizing how much he had changed Hermione's past, stormed off back toward the castle, all plans of relaxing by the lake forgotten.

* * *

_**Hermione's POV**_

Hermione and Harry had been hiding behind a tree as Tom talked to Malfoy. After Tom had stormed off and Malfoy had confusedly followed, Harry and Hermione turned to each other.

"Did he—?"

"I think he did, Harry…"

"Blimey, Hermione," said Harry. "He just refused being called Voldemort!"

"I—I think it was because of us," Hermione said unsurely.

"Well, obviously," Harry retorted, laughing. He soon grew serious and pulled on Hermione's arm, beckoning her to come with him to the castle. Hermione nodded and, ring gleaming in the sunset-ed light, followed him to the castle.

"Harry?" Hermione asked after a short interval of silence. She looked around and noticed they were standing outside the Gryffindor common room. "Why are we here?"

"Memories, Hermione," Harry said as he looked up and down the corridor. Even though they were far in the past, this particular corridor gave them a chilly sense of home. It was the homiest thing Hermione had felt while she was here, other than eating Dumbledore's Lemon Drops.

She glanced down the hallway herself. She saw the grayish-brown tiles lining the floor and she parted from Harry just so she could stomp on each perfectly-squared tile. She smiled as she jumped around, most likely looking like an idiot. Blushing, she looked at the walls which were lined with portraits. Most were familiar, but Hermione noticed that many were missing and many were added that she did not know.

Hermione's eyes almost collected tears as she saw the Fat Lady and her friend Violet conversing, most likely talking about the latest gossip. Hermione missed rolling her eyes at this immature behavior from the inanimate objects that somehow knew how to speak.

She walked back over to Harry and noticed he, too, was staring at the portraits with longing.

"I want to go in there," he said hoarsely, staring at where the entrance to the common room was hidden by the Fat Lady's portrait.

"So do I," Hermione answered. "I want to go in there and do Professor Flitwick's homework while you and Ron play chess or Exploding Snap or something, and Ginny is talking to Parvati and Lavender about boys and such. And Neville is trying to find Trevor, who's running from Crookshanks, while Dean and Seamus are talking about Quidditch." Hermione turned to Harry. "I really want that back."

Harry looked at her and she saw his emerald eyes swimming in memories. "I do, too," he said. "And if we go back far enough, we can find Fred and George selling their Skiving Snackboxes to first years while the ickle Prefect Hermione threatens them with owling Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione laughed, remembering that day back in fifth year. Their faces were so horror-stricken, so pale, when she had threatened them, that even Lee Jordan was intimidated by her. That was the day she had learned to knit polka dots on her elf hats. Yes, she reminisced with a sigh.

"Remember S.P.E.W.?" she asked, laughing at her fourteen- and fifteen-year-old self as she tried to stand up for House Elves. She had realized in sixth year that elves liked their work and that Dobby…well, Dobby was just weird.

"How could I not?" Harry laughed. "It was the cause of most my headaches. Between your indignant protests for elf rights and Ron's mocking insults about just that, I had a migraine every two seconds."

"Yeah," Hermione said dreamily, once again staring at the portrait.

The Fat Lady seemed to have noticed them now, because she was no longer talking to Violet but looking at them expectantly. "Am I going to have to sit here watching you two all day or are you going to give me the password?"

Hermione missed the Fat Lady's snappish comments and short temper. Sadly, she looked at Harry, then back at the portrait, and said, "We were never given the password, so I suppose we can't go in…"

Rather dejectedly, she started to turn around when she heard the Fat Lady say, "You're Gryffindors! Why weren't you given the password?"

"Oh, we have our own quarters, courtesy of Dumbledore," Harry said. "But we'd just liked to have been in the Gryffindor common room at least once."

The Fat Lady seemed to be having an internal battle, because her face was constantly changing emotions. Finally, she said timidly, "If you didn't tell anyone about this, I'll let you in just this once."

Harry and Hermione both looked like Christmas had come early. The Fat Lady swung open and Hermione, along with Harry, stepped to enter, but they heard a scream and instantly turned around.

"Sorry, we'll come back another time, we promise!"

The Fat Lady seemed affronted but nodded and resumed her conversation with Violet.

Hermione and Harry ran toward the Great Hall where they heard the scream. Upon reaching it, they stared open-mouthed, eyes wide, at the sight that greeted them.

* * *

**_Tom's POV_**

Tom, several minutes after leaving the grounds, found himself in the library. He didn't know why his feet had led him here; he had his own library in his Head Boy common room. It was one of the perks of being responsible.

Absentmindedly, Tom grabbed a book on Grindelwald. He flipped through the introduction and onto the life biography. Tom was, for some unknown reason, mildly curious why this man had become someone so despicable.

_Phiglophus Watter Grindel was born on October 31, 1912 to Millicent Carmichael Sinnace Grindel and Dennis Codworthy Grindel…_

Tom skipped a few more pages. He could really care less about Grindelwald's birth. Though, Tom had to submit a small laugh when he realized Grindelwald was named Phiglophus.

Wow. _Someone's parents hated him, _he thought with a laugh as he looked at the name again.

Settling for a random page, Tom skimmed it to see if anything of interest was set on it. He found something about Phiglophus's childhood. Tom was curious if it was anything like his own.

_Phiglophus, at the age of five, was sent to a small magical family, the Wald family when his parents had traveled to America and died there. His new parents, while seemingly loving and caring toward Phig (as he was nicknamed) were really abusive and hurtful toward the poor child. _

_At age nine, he had had enough of their abusiveness and Flooed an Auror. Phig was sent, by Alastor Moody II, to an orphanage a little northeastern of Bristol, forced to live with Squibs and wizards alike._

Tom stopped reading here. He was perplexedly startled to know that Grindelwald had a similar childhood to his own. Tom, wondering what this could mean, skipped a few pages and found a new chapter called 'Chapter Six: Phiglophus's School Years.' Eagerly, Tom began to read.

_By the time Phiglophus had received his letter to Warron's School of Wizardry and Male Squibidry, he had called himself Grindelwald. He used both of his last names and put them together to form a name as vile as the life he was forced to live. _

_Nobody knows much about Phiglophus's school years at Warron's. We only know that he transferred to Hogwarts as soon as his Headmaster and mentor was killed by poison. At this time, Phig was fifteen and he proceeded to his fifth year at Hogwarts, settling in the House of Slytherin._

_Immediately, Phig hit it off with a fourth year girl in Ravenclaw named Janella Cheshittle. Janella was heard to describe Phig as a "wondrous boy with strong opinions. He always stood his ground for what he believed in and was a brilliant student. His lovely looks only helped."_

_When Phig (soon known as Grindelwald to a few select Slytherin friends) progressed to sixth year, a war was raging on in the outside world. Headmistress Dorothy Bannettor, who had been Headmistress for eleven years by the time Phig was a sixth year, played a large part in the war. Dark Wizard of that age, Yester Prollyn (otherwise known as 'Sir Hogwagon' for reasons no one knew) wanted to recruit several Slytherins to help him in the war._

_Smartly, Phig kept out of it. He knew Janella, who he had fallen in love with by then, would leave him if he joined a dark side. So he blatantly refused Sir Hogwagon when he was offered a position and was immediately put into hiding._

_One year after he went into hiding, his seventh year to be precise, he received news that Janella hadn't survived the battle. From this point on, Phig made himself known as Grindelwald and had turned evil, determined to kill off all those in love like he longed to be._

Tom, feeling like he had read enough, closed the book.He couldn't believe that Grindelwald, the Darkest wizard of his time, had been a merely abused boy who ended up living a happy school hood. Tom was even more dumbfounded that he had fallen in love! Love was weakness! Love was—was—

_Blissful_ came to his mind as he thought of Hermione.

Immediately, Tom shook his head. Sure, he admitted he had a—crush—on the girl, but love was something totally different. Love was deep and meaningful. Love was true and pure. Love was beautiful. Love was not something Tom Riddle had ever associated with. He mildly wondered what it would be like if he and Hermione fell in love.

Tom, having enough of these destructive thoughts, threw the book on a random shelf and headed out of the library. He found his way to the Great Hall and saw Hermione and Harry. Smirking, he was about to walk over to him when he stopped in his tracks and saw why they were so still. Looking into the Great Hall, what he saw literally made his blood run cold, his hair stand on end, and his heart almost stop beating.

* * *

Muahahaha, aren't I so completely EVIL? Usually, I'll tell you what that thing is, but I'm feeling particularly powerful, haha! Sucks for you! LOL, just kidding! Please review and guess what/who Tom saw. Thanks! And, Jeez, I am SOOOO sorry about the longer-than-long update! Ahh, I'm on Spring Break for three weeks now, so I'll be updating my stories a lot more now! Yay! 

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	15. Fourteen: The Defeat of Grindelwald

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Full Summary of Story: **_Hermione Granger and best friend Harry Potter are in the Final Battle when plans go astray and the duo get hit with fatal curses. Instead of death, however, they find themselves at the root of their problem and hopefully they can change their fate before time runs out. Eventual TR/HG._

**Disclaimer: **_Well, put it this way. If I were J.K. Rowling, Hermione would be with Sirius Black, he would never have died, and Umbridge would have drowned in a dark pool of death. Well…er…I'm not J.K._

**Words this Chapter: **_4,089

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**WARNING: **Please, please, PLEASE, don't murder me, but there's a character death in this chapter. Of course, I'm not telling you who, how, or why…but I just ask not to throw flaming sticks at me, because then you won't get any more updates! Mwahaha, I love being evil. ( :

* * *

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

The Defeat of Grindelwald

* * *

_**No POV**_

The Great Hall rested before their eyes, though it did not look like anything they recognized. Hell, it didn't even look a part of Hogwarts anymore!

The large, purple banner donning all the school Houses and animals was on fire and there was only the Gryffindor lion and Hufflepuff badger visible on it. The chairs and High Table below the banner were currently being thrown and broken apart. The exit on the left of the room was blocked in by a large, black, brick-like thing. The four House tables had been broken apart and strewn apart around the room, along with the ripped House banners. The only part of the room that hadn't been destroyed was the Ravenclaw section. Ravenclaw's banner was perfectly normal, along with the table.

Hermione was afraid to turn her eyes to the person she knew was in the room, but she had to. Looking slightly to her left, she saw the person she knew she'd come across eventually.

A balding, not-quite-human creature was standing there, holding up a pine wand and shouting curses around the room, making sure to keep the Ravenclaw portion untouched. He had a slightly green tint to all his features and Hermione could have sworn she saw gill-like slits on his neck. His eyes were an aqua-green and he was wearing billowing green robes. Hermione knew, without ever seeing this man before, that this was Grindelwald. (AN: _I don't know, I've always pictured him as some sea-like creature, probably because his name reminds me of grindylows. Besides, if Voldemort can look like a snake, why can't Grindelwald look like a grindylow?_)

"Damn it," Harry cursed. "Another battle for us to fight in. Come on, Hermione."

He grabbed Hermione's arm and they entered the doorway. Grindelwald didn't seem to notice them yet, so Hermione turned to Tom, who was just standing there, stunned, and said, "Tom! Get Dumbledore! We'll need backup! And keep the students out of here!" Tom nodded obediently, for he knew this was too serious a situation to disobey her orders.

After he had left, Hermione turned back to Grindelwald. It was then that she noticed there were at least twenty other men around him, helping him destruct the Great Hall.

Hermione and Harry seemed to have an internal dilemma: should they attack and have the upper hand or stall and see how long they could last without violence?

It seemed that they'd have to fight because someone who was destroying the Hufflepuff banner noticed them. "Grindelwald! There are two children here!"

Grindelwald stopped observing the room and damage and turned to the doorway where Hermione and Harry stood defiantly and confidently. Hermione was chanting, _please hurry, Tom!_ But she knew that it'd be awhile before help came.

Grindelwald's face twisted into a sick, sea-creature-like smile. In certain ways, it was almost like Voldemort's. He briskly seemed to float toward them and stopped a few mere meters away.

"Who do we have here?" he drawled in a voice Hermione had not expected. It was not high and cold, like Voldemort's, but deep and burly and taunting. "Two little children wanting to play?"

"Get out of Hogwarts, Grindelwald," Harry said seriously, knowing fully well that Grindelwald would just laugh. And laugh he did.

"That's sure put me in _my_ place," he smirked. Hermione actually seemed to like him better than Voldemort. Grindelwald, at least, had a sense of humor. Voldemort was all curses and no talk.

"We're not children," Hermione joined in. Grindelwald's eyes left Harry and snapped onto her. He swept toward her until he was a few feet away.

"Little girl, go back to your dolls," he said cruelly, "This is no place for children."

"Go fuck a grindylow," she said irritably, surprising both herself and Harry. She had never used that word in her life and, quite frankly, she had never planned to. And to use it in such a manner! Hermione instantly felt ashamed of herself.

Something gleamed in Grindelwald's eyes. "I'll be telling Mommy about that word," he mocked. Hermione went rigid and became pale with fury. Her fists clenched tightly, and the hand holding her wand was grasping it so tightly she was sure it would break any moment. Her mouth was thinner than McGonagall's at her sternest moments, but Hermione did not care. How _dare_ he bring her parents into this!

"Shut up already!" Harry said, collecting Grindelwald's attention again. It was then that he noticed Harry's scar. Suddenly all mock and taunt was gone and in its place was amazement and shock.

"How do you have that scar?" Grindelwald asked, seemingly transfixed by the scar. "You have to survive the Avada to get it!"

"I know," Harry said, very aggravated that Grindelwald was chit-chatting to him like they were old friends. "I did survive it. When I was one."

"No one's ever survived it," Grindelwald argued.

"Apparently I have," said Harry, tired of this game. "Sectumsempra!"

Grindelwald stumbled backwards, clutching his bloody stomach. The spell hadn't been invented since Snape's school days so he was hoping Grindelwald wouldn't know the counter-curse.

"Ammendo!" said one of his followers._ Damn_, Harry thought.

And the war began.

Hermione and Harry instantly parted. They were severely outnumbered and they both knew they'd have to maintain their strength perfectly or they'd lose terribly. The twenty men following the sea-like Grindelwald stopped destructing the Great Hall and moved to defend their leader.

Hermione noticed, as she shouted a nice "_Stupefy_!" at one man, that more followers were crowding around her than Harry. _Oh, so you don't think girls can play tough?_ Hermione thought angrily. _Watch me_.

* * *

_**Grindelwald's POV**_

Grindelwald watched the two "children" before him. The boy was single-handedly fighting off all of his followers with curses he had never heard of, and it infuriated him. How could some child know more than he, the Darkest wizard of the age? And the scar—it was impossible! Yet, there it was. Grindelwald was, for once, stumped.

And the girl…Grindelwald snapped his eyes onto the brunette who was currently progressing as well as the boy, if not better. She didn't seem helpless like all the other girls he'd encountered. She too was using spells he hadn't heard of while managing to block or dodge all of the spells thrown at her. He watched satisfactorily as one of his followers crept up behind her, but, not even turning around, the girl used a Muggle thing called "punching" and the man fell down. Grindelwald was furious.

He was also very surprised at why they had ordered Tom Riddle to leave. Yes, Grindelwald knew all about Tom Riddle. He was the only one since Dumbledore's school years who could surpass Phiglophus in grades. Grindelwald wanted to recruit him, but Tom seemed to have plans of his own. Grindelwald knew of his brilliance and figured he was smarter than both of these two children fighting, but then why had _they _ordered _him_ out?

Grindelwald watched the mini-battle with wary eyes. He decided that he would join in if he lost too many followers. Or at least that was the plan until the girl hit him with the Cruciatus Curse.

* * *

_**Hermione's POV**_

_Watch me._

Hermione began to do a series of agile twists and turns, hoping to confuse the men. The flailed about, trying to catch up with her, but she was shooting curses and running all around the Great Hall at the same time.

Hermione saw someone creep up behind Harry and her anger only intensified. As she shot a very Dark, unpopular curse at the man, she yelled out to his staggering body, "It's very cowardly to attack someone when their back is turned!"

The man, still fighting to keep his balance, turned to her with a mean glint in his eyes. "And you'd know all about that?" he asked bitterly, and Hermione knew he was restraining himself so as not to howl in pain.

"Some kid in my fourth year got turned into a ferret for it!" she yelled back, avoiding all the curses being strung her way. "In fact, maybe I should try it again!" Watching satisfactorily as the man gained a look of horror, she yelled out the hex and even Harry and Grindelwald stopped what they were doing to watch the man turn into a brown, powdery ferret.

"Argh!" Grindelwald yelled in frustration. "You should know better than to chat during battles, Froster!"

The ferret's head snapped toward Grindelwald for a moment before attempting to run out of the room.

"Petrificus Totalus!" said Harry before the ferret reached the door. He shrunk onto his back, momentarily petrified. Harry smirked as he continued fighting the men gathered around him.

Hermione now had a ghost of a smile as she fought. She'd never get tired of watching some enemy of hers become a ferret. Oh, no, it would never get old. She fought off a Stunner that headed for her but as she did so, she was hit with something, undoubtedly Dark that caused a huge gash to appear on her body.

"Augh!" she moaned, biting her lip to stifle her screams. She felt the blood soak through her blouse and she fought to keep standing. She cast a strong Shield Charm on herself to ensure safety for a few moments as she looked around for the culprit. She saw a man looking directly at her, smirking triumphantly. _I'll show him,_ Hermione thought, then yelled out quite abruptly, "_Accio_!"

The man's surprised look was priceless as he flew through the air toward her. She was going to laugh at the sight, but her disgust kept her from doing so. Once she actually had him in her hand, she started beating the crap out of him, the Muggle way.

"How—dare you even—attempt—to weaken me—you utter son—of a bitch!" she said profanely between punches, kicks, and Tae Kwon Do moves she had learned a few summers previous with her cousin. However, that was irrelevant.

After knocking the man unconscious, she saw that Harry had been hit with something. She screamed in fury, fully attempting to make the offender pay, but she saw Harry's hand form a "stop" signal and she nodded, although he couldn't see, and turned back to her battle.

Hermione was trying very hard not to let Grindelwald's supporters triumph. It actually wasn't very hard, for she and Harry knew of curses and counter-curses that wouldn't be invented for decades. Plus, they had previous experience. Their emotional instability and fury only added to the venom put into their fight. She saw, with a plunge of annoyance, Grindelwald. He was merely sitting at the untouched Ravenclaw table, watching the battle lazily. She would make him pay for his comfort, but at the moment she was trying to keep up a conversation with Harry.

"Harry—_Stupefy_!—when do you think Tom will be back—_Petrificus Totalus_!—with Dumbledore and the Order?" she asked, watching as one man went rigid and the other fell unconscious. She felt the urge to call them Death Eaters, but refrained.

"Hermione, the Order—_Sectumsempra_!—ow—doesn't exist," Harry said sharply, watching with an odd glint in his eyes as the man before him wriggled in pain with a bright cream-colored light surrounding his pooled-with-blood body.

"Oh yeah," Hermione said, punching a man who had tried to creep up behind her. "Harry—_Disselda_!—you know we'll have to—_Stupefy_!—kill some of these people soon!" Hermione noticed circumspectly that there were now at least six of Grindelwald's followers lying on the floor.

"I know," said Harry sadly, casting a shield upon himself. "Let's try and wait for Dumbledore, though, okay? _Impedimenta_!"

"Okay," Hermione answered. "I'm just glad that this Dark Lord doesn't have any Horcruxes! _CRUCIO_!"

Hermione watched eagerly as the flashing light beamed in the direction of Grindelwald and, soon enough, inhumanly vicious screams pierced the air around them.

* * *

_**Tom's POV**_

Tom hated to take orders from anyone; usually_ he'd_ be the one giving them out. However, what with his newfound feelings for Hermione, and the obvious gravity of the situation at hand, he unwillingly found himself running around the castle, trying hastily to get to the Transfiguration classroom.

Tom wondered for a fleeting moment if Dumbledore was the right choice, but instantly shook that thought away. Just because he had a grudge against the wise man didn't mean he wasn't brilliant. Besides, he could not think of someone better to contact. Of course, Dippet was the headmaster, but he was as thick as Hermione's hair. And even Tom had to admit that none of the teachers were nearly as competent as Dumbledore in any aspect. Besides, wasn't _Dumbledore_ the one who the new kids clearly trusted?

Sighing, Tom ran toward the Transfiguration room. He heard portraits shout, "Slow down, boy!" but paid them no mind. He saw curious students question each other with their eyes, body posture, and raised eyebrows, but all he said was, "Move!"

Tom could not believe that Grindelwald had managed to get inside the school, let alone Great Hall, undetected. The security charms on this place were almost foolproof. How had he not attracted any attention yet managed to destroy pretty much the most important area in the entire castle? It didn't make any sense. What was odder, the Ravenclaw section was untouched. Obviously, it was because it was the house of his one love, but still: wouldn't he want to destroy every part of the room?

Tom was panting and out of breath by the time he reached the corridor of his destination. He knew perfectly well that Dumbledore was probably not alone in his room, but nonetheless, Tom barged through the door, causing it to open violently and ricochet onto the wall with a loud echo.

Suddenly, fear lunged into Tom's stomach along with a plummet of his hope. Dumbledore was not in his room.

Tom frantically turned in small circles, making absolutely sure that Dumbledore was not here. When this was proved to be true, Tom rushed to the desk. He threw open all the drawers, searching for anything that could help him contact Dumbledore. When he found nothing but personal letters, newspaper clippings, and other useless things, Tom resisted the curious urge to read them and tried to get back to the matter at hand.

Eying the room, Tom smacked his forehead as he looked at the fireplace. _Of course!_ Tom thought. _I can Floo Dippet's office and see if he's there!_

With this thought in mind, Tom ran to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, and said clearly into the fireplace, "Armando Dippet's office!"

Tom, although only his head was traveling, felt an odd sensation throughout his body. His knees were uncomfortably plastered onto the hard floor, but luckily there was a rug to provide at least some comfort. Tom had a feeling that Dumbledore put it there purposely. Tom's head was spinning for several seconds until his body just went numb. He saw Dippet's office and called out frantically, "Headmaster? Headmaster!"

Tom heard Dippet's footsteps scurry over toward him and next thing he knew, Dippet was facing him. "What is it, child?" he asked irritably.

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore!" Tom yelled, causing a bit of ash to fly into Dippet's face. He would have laughed, had things not been so serious.

"What fireplace are you using?" asked Dippet.

Tom did not see how this was at all relevant, but said hurriedly, "Dumbledore's! He's not in his office, Professor, and I need to see him _immediately_!"

Dippet seemed to have finally acknowledged how distraught Tom was, for he nodded and said somewhat distantly, "He's here in my office, we were chatting and having tea. Would you like me to send him to his classroom, Tom?"

"Obviously!" said Tom impatiently. Before Dippet could respond, Tom removed his head from the fire and was back in Dumbledore's office.

As he waited edgily for Dumbledore to enter, he sat at a desk in the middle of the room. Fidgety and uncomfortable, he switched to sitting at Dumbledore's desk. However, he figured Dumbledore would want to sit there so he moved to another seat.

After a few good minutes of this nervous behavior, the door opened. Tom was relieved; he didn't know how the mini-war was faring in the Great Hall. He could only hope that Hermione—and Harry—were not hurt. Although, he was still amazed at how Grindelwald remained undiscovered.

Dumbledore entered the room and Tom shot up out of the seat he was currently sitting in. Dumbledore made to sit at his desk but Tom wailed, "There's no time for that!"

Dumbledore, looking mildly surprised, turned his head to look at Tom. He had, quite honestly, never seen the calm, cool, and collected Tom Riddle so frantic. "What is the matter, Mr. Riddle?" he asked.

"We need to get to the Great Hall!" At Dumbledore's blank look, he added, "Now!"

"I—what?" Dumbledore asked, now completely confused.

Tom sighed in utter exasperation. "Harry and Hermione are in there, _fighting _Grindelwald and about twenty of his followers, by themselves! _We need to go there and help them!_" he said severely.

Dumbledore lost his confused look immediately, along with the twinkle in his eye. He instantly made way for the door, holding it open for Tom, who scampered through. "Let's go."

Tom looked at him. "Aren't we going to get more help?" he asked.

Dumbledore did not look back at him as he strode down toward the Great Hall. "Eventually, when I do not return to Armando's office, he will realize something has happened. It may take awhile, but you, Harry, and Hermione, are three of the more intelligent wizards I have met. The four of us should be fine until help comes, and we cannot risk losing either of them under any circumstances. We must get to them as soon as possible."

Tom did not question why Harry and Hermione were so important, nor did he question why Dumbledore had not scolded him for not calling them Astin or Skylar. All he knew at the moment was that he had to keep Hermione safe—and Harry, because he meant so much to her.

When they finally reached the front doors of the Great Hall, Dumbledore pushed them open.

Tom faintly heard Hermione say, "I'm just glad that this Dark Lord doesn't have any Horcruxes! _CRUCIO_!"

Tom paled significantly, watching somewhat distantly as a white light engulfed Grindelwald and he fell to the floor in sceams. All he could think was _how did she know about Horcruxes?_ There were no books on Horcruxes and hardly any wizard knew about them. He doubted Dippet even knew about them. What made it even worse was that she implied perfectly clearly that the Dark Lord who had taken so much from her had used Horcruxes. That sounded exactly like Tom's future would have been if Hermione and Harry hadn't arrived.

* * *

_**No POV **_

Hermione stopped watching the unbelievably squirmy Grindelwald to see who had arrived. To her utter relief, Tom had Dumbledore in tow at the doorway. However, as she realized what she had just said out loud, she turned back to Grindelwald, hoping Tom hadn't heard.

If he had, she was sure he would put all of the pieces together. Their abrupt and mysterious arrival; their loss of everything from a Dark Lord that was unheard of; their condition upon arriving being unexplainable (because if they were on Grindelwald's hit list they would have been famous, but otherwise killed with a simple Avada, and having neither); and then the Horcrux bit, which Hermione knew Tom was already involved in…or studying.

One of her biggest fears about being in this time was somebody other than Dumbledore finding out. That would jeopardize everything, she knew. The future would be forever changed…

A shocking change in her surroundings knocked Hermione out of her reverie. Grindelwald was no longer screaming. Looking up at him, she saw that he was greedily—and angrily—looking at her.

"You little bitch," he panted, storming toward her after making sure that Tom, Dumbledore, and Harry were distracted.

"That hurt," she mocked sarcastically. "Tell me, which one of your _few_ remaining supporters freed you from the wrath of a _little_ girl like me?"

Grindelwald's eyes shot a disturbing color for a moment before he lunged at her. She jumped out of the way. "That wasn't smart!" she said.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," came Harry's playful voice from next to her. She stared at Harry in amazement. How could he be so cheerful at such a horrible situation? Seemingly reading her mind, he said, "I'm thinking positive thoughts." He shrugged.

Hermione nodded and pointed her wand at Grindelwald, who had just pushed himself into a standing position. He laughed as she held out her wand.

"You laugh as though I hadn't put you under the Cruciatus a few minutes ago," Hermione pointed out, pleasingly knocking the laugh right out of him. His eyes narrowed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione cut him off. "Avada Kedavra!" she tried, but he had rushed out of the way and her curse hit someone that Tom was dueling.

Speaking of Tom, Hermione wondered where Dumbledore was. Looking around, she noticed he was no longer present in the room.

"I saw Dumbledore leave to get help," Harry whispered to her, and she nodded, smiling slightly at how he could read her like a book.

"You stall Grindelwald as long as you can and I'll try to battle someone else," he continued. "Hopefully we can kill off all of his followers."

As Harry walked away, Hermione turned to Grindelwald. "So, how has your day been?" she asked conversationally, mentally berating herself. Sure, she knew talking would stall him, but she asked about the day of someone who wanted to kill her! Was she really that stupid?

Grindelwald seemed to be thinking upon the same lines, for he looked at her in disbelief before smirking. "It was fine thanks. I managed to torture a few Mudbloods down in Diagon Alley."

Hermione's face scrunched up in distaste. "How—er—revolting," she said, staring at his aqua-green eyes and wondering if they were the only human part of him.

"Yes," he agreed, "but isn't that what makes it more pleasurable?"

"No," she said bluntly, raising her wand.

He laughed at it yet again. "Are you going to curse me, girl?"

"My name is Hermione," said Hermione indignantly, her eyes flaring with fury.

"How odd," he commented.

"Better than Phiglophus, isn't it?" she asked, having read his biography one time back in fifth year.

The impact her words seemed to have was appalling. Grindelwald's eyes narrowed distinctly and his nostrils—if you could call them that—flared disturbingly. His fists clenched in anger and he made a movement as though to curse her, but he turned to Harry, who was dueling some other follower.

"Avada Ke—" Grindelwald started.

"HARRY!" Hermione shrieked. Harry turned around and saw Grindelwald's lips mouthing the Killing Curse.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry said as fast as he could while still saying it clearly. At the same time, Grindelwald finished his incantation.

The effect was amazing. Every person in the room stopped what they were doing to watch what was happening. A green glow floated in the middle of the Great Hall, illuminating everything. Hermione was quite sure her eyes were painted green, for everything that she saw was toned neon green. The light filtered throughout the room, seemingly slowing down time. When the light disappeared, it was an instantaneous flash of every color of the rainbow, ending in a midnight black. When everything was over and done, both Harry and Grindelwald were unmoving on the floor.

Hermione rushed immediately toward her best friend, the only one left. What she saw pierced what was left of her heart. Before her, Harry lay with his wand loosely in his hand, his glasses askew. His hair was wiped around him and his face was slowly but surely turning a milky color. His emerald eyes were looking up at her, but they held no person.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she realized that not only was his chest lacking the breathy rise and fall that it should have had, but his eyelids were not blinking.

Just when Hermione was coughing and spluttering at Harry's dead body, unwilling to believe it, his body vanished right in front of her eyes.

* * *

OMG, I'm so sorry for the long wait! Writer's block sucks! Oh dear, this chapter made me cry! This is so effing sad! Please, as I said above, do not throw flaming sticks, sharp objects, or anything lethal at me for the character death…just review…I do hope I don't get too many flames…oh, and I did not want to kill him off, but I need to. Things will get better, all right?

Love & Cheers,

Cheez It


	16. Fifteen: What Only Words Can Mend

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Words this Chapter: **_4,034

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**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

What Only Words Can Mend

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Hermione felt the body that she was leaning over vanish with a pop. She slowly turned her head downward, scared—no, terrified—of what she'd see. Her heart had never been as broken as it was right at that moment. Harry was dead, and when she wished to dwell over his body, for the sake of memory, it disappears.

She knew she'd see nothing when she looked below her, for she was now sprawled on the floor herself. However, she was completely unprepared for the shock of not seeing Harry. She let out a deafening scream that snapped everyone's eyes onto her. She didn't care; her head was laid in her hands and she was bawling the hardest she ever had in her life.

"H—Harry!" she moaned loudly, brushing off all the hands of comfort that touched her. "Harry, we were in this together! I WON'T BELIEVE IT! NO! NO! NO!"

"Hermione," said a calming voice, but she ignored it and continued pleading for Harry to return.

"Hermione," the voice said persistently, refusing to leave her alone. She felt a warm hand grasp her shoulder but this did nothing to soothe her.

"Hermione Granger," the voice said and Hermione finally looked up. She saw crystal blue eyes gazing down at her through strands of an auburn-ish color of hair.

"D — Dumbledore," Hermione choked, looking back at her hands and instantly feeling childish at her behavior, though making no motion to stop it. "Oh, Harry," she added in a whisper.

"Come, dear, we must take you to the infirmary," said Dumbledore, extending his hand. She took it and allowed him to help her up. She swayed a bit and grabbed onto him to keep her balance.

"He just disappeared!" Hermione wailed, thrusting herself onto Dumbledore and hugging him as though he were Harry. "How could he leave me?" she continued, now sobbing into Dumbledore's chest. She felt his ringed hand pat her consolingly on the back.

"There, there," Dumbledore said into her hair. He walked over to where Tom stood, watching the scene like many others. "Tom, I need you take her to the Hospital Wing. I need to be here to deal with Grindelwald's men."

Tom did not argue but merely took the sobbing girl into his arms. Instantly, her arms unlocked from Dumbledore and clasped onto him. He felt her tears soaking into his shirt, but at the moment he could care less. As Dumbledore walked away, smiling slightly at the pair, Tom began to lead Hermione out of the Great Hall.

This was proving to be very hard, for she was attaching her every limb to him and it was difficult for him to walk. Tom decided to carry her and with his decision, he scooped her into his arms and her hands reattached to each other around his neck. Her face was in his chest still, but he paid no matter as he stroked her lusciously curly hair.

"Shh," he whispered. "It's going to be all right, Hermione. Shh…"

Hermione inclined her head, but her sobbing did not cease. As they walked to the infirmary, Tom felt extremely lightheaded.

He was carrying the girl that he had formed a mounted crush on. She was clinging to him as though her life depended on it. His fingers navigated through her hair, her soft, creamy hair while he held her as carefully as he would a porcelain doll (not that he'd carry a doll or anything…) He wanted to fix her life for her. He wanted her to confide in him, to see behind the face he pasted for everyone else.

She was changing him! He no longer wanted to be that gargoyle monster he had once dreamt of. He could see himself with Hermione, happy and in love. He could see himself in ten years, married to her and hugging his children. He had no idea where these thoughts came from, but he had no desire to shut them away. He was — awaiting them?

Tom shook his head and tried to ignore the girl who was bawling in his arms (though without much luck). His mind took a trip down memory lane and he could not honestly see any other time when this girl was more distraught, and he had known her for a few months now. Minus that one time in the Astronomy Tower when she had first come and the time in the infirmary after the duel, he had never seen her cry, or even remove her barrier of strength in plain view.

Tom noticed that quite a few students were positioned in the Hogwarts corridors. He was somewhat annoyed, for the rivalry between Tom and Hermione was well-known throughout the school and the bystanders' eyes were_ about to fall out of their sockets with all their staring_, as Tom had thought. He glared at everyone who dared question him. He passed a few Slytherins, more seventh years than not, and they all grimaced at the sight of Tom carrying "that know-it-all, stupid little Gryffindor bitch". Malfoy in particular shook his head as though betrayed when Tom passed. Tom tried to ignore him.

It seemed as though forever had passed until they reached the Hospital Wing. Madam Mayalle, ever the eager Medi-Witch, gasped at the sight of Hermione. It was then that Tom fully noticed her appearance. She looked weak, yes, but Tom knew from experience that not everything was what it seemed. She had bruises and bloodstains tracking her skin (not to mention tearstains on her face). One bruise, on her right cheek, was a nasty yellowed, puss-like blob. She was shaking when the matron helped her to the bed. She was dirty and bloody, in short. In a simple once-over, Tom realized she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Once Hermione had drunk all the potions that Madam Mayalle prescribed to her and was settled into her bed, Tom conjured a chair and sat next to her bed. He rubbed his finger over her face, wiping away any footsteps of tears. He was careful around her right cheek, where the matron had rubbed some sort of cream over the bruise.

"Hermione," Tom said in a soft voice. Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared at him. Her face was void of any sort of emotion; blank. Her eyes, however, told him something else. Her ambers were filled with pain, loss, tragedy…

"He's gone, Tom," she said, her voice laced with hoarseness. "He's gone, and I won't ever see him again. It's like what happened with everyone else. I thought Harry would stay forever…"

Tom looked at her with compassion. He had never sympathized for anyone before, and he had never wanted to, but seeing Hermione in this hospital bed, full of pain that she had finally begun to lose within the last few days…it broke Tom's heart and he felt the need to make things better for her.

His hand reached out and he stroked her hair tentatively. When she made no move to slap him or yell, he brushed it over more confidently.

Hermione continued, seemingly oblivious to Tom's doings. "Harry always was an amazing person. With everything he had gone through in his life, he always managed a smile when I needed one. I don't know how he lived through his life, but he did, and that in itself is an almost impossible feat."

It was then that Dumbledore came striding in, looking grave but pleased. He moved toward Hermione's bed, nodding at Madam Pomfrey and smiling with a twinkle at Tom.

"We have defeated them," he said. "Grindelwald is finished, thanks to Harry and Hermione, and now his men have been shipped to Azkaban. The remaining men, I mean."

"That's great!" said Tom, not removing his eyes from Hermione. His finger continued to caress her skin.

"Yes, but without Harry and Hermione, Hogwarts would have been done for, I daresay. We have the Headmaster and several of the staff fixing the Great Hall. And now," he added on a more cheerful note, looking significantly at Hermione, "I must borrow Hermione's indulgent company for but a moment."

Tom took this as a sign to leave; though that was one of the last things he wanted to do. However, he had no choice in the matter, so he brushed his lips against Hermione's hand and left the infirmary, firmly waiting outside.

"Headmaster?" questioned Hermione.

"Fantastic news, my dear," said Dumbledore, placing himself at the foot of her bed. "I have come across two discoveries. I do hope you'll be pleased about both."

"Do share," she said, as excited as she could be sitting in the hospital bed with multiple creams on her wounds.

"First off," started Dumbledore, "I have discovered more knowledge about your home. As you will remember previously, I told you that the future has either frozen in place, awaiting your return and the changes you bring, or has wiped out completely, leaving you in this time for the remainder of your lifetime.

"I hope you will be pleased to hear that I have now learned that your past is merely frozen, a mere glitch of time. When you return, which you now undoubtedly will, it will resume its position you left it as, as though you had never left. However, whatever changes have been made since your arrival will come into play. You say you were in the middle of a battle with Lord Voldy-thing when you were transported, yes?"

"Lord Voldemort, yes, sir," corrected Hermione.

"Well, say you have cast such a change in Tom Riddle that he no longer wishes to become Voldemort. The position you return in will be the place you would have left had he never become Voldemort at all. The exact day and time will remain the same, though the events may differ. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. "That it actually very welcome news to me, sir. What else have you found out?"

"It involves your dear friend, Mr. Harry Potter," Dumbledore said. Hermione's eyes glazed over but she nodded all the same. "Very good news, indeed. When Harry was killed in the war we have just been released from, you will notice his body seemed to Disapparate. This is because he was killed in a time frame that was not his own. His body was transported to the future — your past. He will be awaiting your return home, as though he had never left. However, he will sustain his memories and will remember all of his time here."

"Oh, sir, this is wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands around Dumbledore's neck. He chuckled but patted her back all the same.

"And now, I must leave and help out in the recreation of our dining room. I will allow Mr. Riddle to reenter, if there are no objections."

"Of course," said Hermione, "He can come back in."

As Dumbledore left, Tom walked in, resuming his place by Hermione's bedside. Dumbledore cast one last smile before he left.

"Was it good news?" was Tom's immediate question. Hermione nodded her answer and Tom looked relieved. They sat there, in a comfortable silence, for quite sometime. Hermione was trying to rid her body of the pain from her wounds while Tom was trying to figure out how to form what he was about to say.

"Hermione," he said abruptly, causing her eyes to lose their glazed look and snap onto him. He continued, avoiding her eyes. "Hermione, when I look at you, my hands start to shake. When I'm with you, my stomach starts fluttering. When I think of you, my mind wanders to the future where I see the two of us and lots of kids. When I talk to you, I get nervous, like I don't know what to say. I've never felt this, Hermione." He looked to her eyes apprehensively, his voice shaking. In her eyes he saw shock and something else that he couldn't exactly place. "When I hear your name, something wells up inside of me. When I see you cry I just want to h d you and make it all better. When I see your hand rise in class, I just want you to share all of your knowledge with me. When I see you laughing, I wish that I were the reason. Hermione, I — I'm no expert with feelings or anything, but I think — I think I love you."

To say that Hermione was surprised was the understatement of the _millennium_. Her eyes were widened almost to the size of golf balls, staring at Tom as though he were some sort of ancient treasure. Her mouth formed a delicate "O" and her eyebrows were furrowed together as though scrutinizing him.

In all honesty, his declaration shocked Hermione so much that she felt as though she were about to faint. Here was this shelled, closed, private boy who had worked throughout his school years to build a wall of emotionless "strength". Now, this boy, who she knew as a mass murderer ruining her life, Harry's life, and everyone else's life for the sake of some sick gain of his own, was declaring his love for her. Was it only her, or did this seem slightly illogical?

She should have seen it coming though; all the imminent hints of changing his personality ever since she had arrived had to mean something. Everything that she and Harry had read about his school days changed abruptly when they had arrived.

Realizing that Tom was looking at her nose expectantly (he was seemingly too embarrassed to look her in the eyes), Hermione turned to him. She saw a pinkish tinge on his cheeks, a teetering look of humiliation in his eyes. Hermione almost gasped—this was the first time emotion had shone in those eyes, was it not?

"Tom?" she said tentatively, not daring to believe this encounter. She still saw herself, in Voldemort's eyes, as some extra; some name on a checklist of murders to commit; someone not worth noticing. Yet, here he was, fifty years younger, noticing more about her than anyone had dared take the time to do, confessing his _love _for her. Love!

Tom looked up at her, looking abashed. "Look, I shouldn't have said all of that…I'm sorry…you're just getting over Harry and…I'm sorry…"

He was now mumbling incoherently, looking as though he'd like nothing more than to crawl under a rock and disappear. Hermione, never ceasing to be amazed by this young man before her, was yet again astonished at how he presented himself at the moment; if she told anyone that she'd seen a young Voldemort looking like he wanted to just disappear, they'd ship her off to Lockhart's ward in St. Mungo's. Though her eyes had admittedly filled with tears at the mention of Harry's name, when she spoke, her voice was firm.

"Tom, listen to me," she said softly but sternly, knocking him out of his muttering reverie. "I would have never thought that _you_, of all people, would just admit to loving someone…let alone, _me_."

Tom snorted and looked like he was about to say something, but Hermione held up a hand to prevent him from doing so.

"Are you _sure _you love me?"

This question was so sudden and unexpected that Tom was momentarily speechless. Of all the things she could have said, he was completely unprepared for _that_.

"Why do you doubt it?" he asked, his voice much different than he remembered. It was deeper, rougher, and drier than it was minutes ago.

"To be honest — I didn't think it possible for you to love me."

Tom saw that she was once again streaking her face with tears. He leant over and brushed them away with his fingertips, going so far as to kiss her forehead affectionately.

"I didn't either," he responded, looking straight into her eyes. It seemed as though that moment lasted forever. Finally, after what seemed like eternities, Hermione smiled. A real, true, painless smile.

"You're beautiful," he rasped, unable to help himself.

Hermione was at a loss for words. What do you say when someone says that? A "thank you" hardly seemed to suffice. Instead, she ignored the pounding warning signals in the pit of her mind and decided to act against the logicalities of things and act for her heart. She leant forward and collected Tom's lips with her own.

This kiss was very much different from their first. Tom, who had previously been desperate to taste her, to get her to talk to him, was now grateful for being able to experience her taste twice. Hermione, on the other hand, was now savoring the feel of Tom's soft lips atop hers rather than thinking of the obscenities she was sure to receive from herself later on.

As the kiss deepened, Tom wrapped his left arm around her mid-back, which was surprisingly easy considering her position on the hospital bed and his on the floor. Using his other hand, he ruffled it through her hair, enjoying the feel of it through his fingers. Hermione put both hands on his shoulders, caressing them roguishly. His tongue tasted like a tangy candy, sweet but sour as well, as it found its way to her lips, begging entrance, which she granted him without hesitancy. His hands moved to her face, stroking away any escaped tears that might have lashed out of her eyes. Feeling a sudden, urgent need for oxygen, Hermione ended the kiss.

She opened her eyes at him, staring into dark, mysterious irises that seemed to search her own. She smiled at him, and as she did so she could taste the lingering sensation his tongue had marked behind.

"I wonder what will happen if I go back," Hermione murmured to herself softly.

"Hmm?" asked Tom, his fingers resting upon his lips where they had touched Hermione's.

Hermione looked up and seemed startled that he was there. "Nothing," she whispered.

"I want to know where you're from," requested Tom nervously after a small gap of silence. Hermione's eyes snapped upon his own. She looked scared, nervous, and as though she was guarding her words carefully.

"I — I can't tell you," she said. "Not — not yet."

Tom was now exasperated. "Why the _hell_ not? I think I've earned the privilege to know where you came from, where you so mysteriously appeared without any information! Why can't you tell me, Hermione?"

"Think about it!" she said as though it were an obvious reason. "Here you are, infamous Tom Riddle, brilliant wizard at Hogwarts, prefect, Head Boy, the works," she continued, as though no longer noticing his presence. "The boy who was never been interested in friends or girlfriends, but merely longed for power and recognition. The one who found spite in Muggles and Muggle-borns because of how his life, with Muggles, turned on him. The boy who could accomplish anything but wanted nothing."

Tom now looked indignant. His nostrils flared slightly as he said reproachfully, "I had long goals for life! I have brilliant plans that I could easily complete! I —"

"Want nothing," Hermione finished, ignoring his look of outrage as she repeated her earlier sentiments. "Correct me if I'm wrong," she began, using her knowledge of the future to help her, "But do you not want to achieve immortality?" Tom paled. "Do you not want to become the most powerful — _feared_ — wizard to run about our world? Do you not want to create Horcruxes or someday become so controlling that wizards and witches fear speaking your _name_? Tell me, Tom, do you not want to wipe out the world of all those with, as you would say, 'filthy blood' solely because your life had treated you unfairly? Those things may be brilliant and wondrous to you, Tom, but in all honesty, in the _deepest_ crevice of your heart, you know that they are vengeful nothings that will achieve naught but spite, hate, and lies across the world. You have deemed yourself above others, you have determined that love was weakness, you have believed that those things create greatness, but truly, they create failure."

Tom, face still greyly paled, stared at her. She was spot on about all of his life goals, all of the things he wished to achieve. How did she know? How could she have possibly figured out all of those things about him, when he himself had not spoken word of it to anyone? She was a truly amazing specimen who never ceased to astonish him.

He could list all of her amazing attributes as though they were meant to roll off of his tongue in a smooth fashion. For one, she was a modest beauty; not the most stunningly gorgeous girl he'd come across, but definitely good-looking and completely unaware of it. She had come mysteriously from nowhere (and he had yet to find out where it truly was) and settled in by herself (and Harry) nicely. She rivaled, if not surpassed, him academically. She formed a wall of authority and superiority, though was not prejudiced in any way, only confident in herself. She was strong, and knew how to control her emotions, even though she had been through a lot in her life, that much he could tell. With everyone, she isolated herself and could form a life alone. With Harry, she was carefree and like a teenager — the way she should be. She never backed down on her ideas or beliefs and for that, he was amazed by the young woman before him.

"How — how did you know all of that?" he asked shrewdly. "How could you possibly know all of that about me when I haven't said one word of it to anyone?"

"I've said this before," she said in an almost sad tone, "and I'll say it again. Everyone has their secrets, Tom."

"Quit being so damn evasive!" he said angrily. "How is it that you know _my_ secrets?"

"I doubt you could handle the truth," she said, sighing reminiscently.

"I'm very confident that I could handle whatever it is you are hiding," he responded haughtily. "I'm a strong person."

"Ah, but are you?" said Hermione. "Is aspiring hate, destruction, and power classified as strong? Would you consider prejudice or claimed superiority to those different from you a form of strength? Is spawning fear among the human race a way to gain potency?" Her tone was wary, a sort of weak, yet meaningful lace to it.

Tom didn't answer right away. Her words mulled over in her mind, eating away his certainty. In some faraway part of his mind, he realized that she was right. How was hate — which he had learned to accept into his life so freely — a way to gain acceptance and strength? How was destruction a way to spend life? How was overpowering others through fear and fury a way to collect respect? How did prejudice make him more superior?

"Do not fear death," said Hermione, still holding her wary voice. "A day held in fear is a day wasted in life. Immortality is the essence of fearing death; for those who achieve it are too cowardly to accept life itself. Those who achieve it fear dying so much that they must go to any ends to avoid it."

Her words were so true, so _knowledgeable_, that he wondered where she had heard them, or where she had thought of them if they were her own. He couldn't believe the conversation they were having, the way she was affecting his life in these mere few minutes. However, she was impacting him so severely that he was rethinking his choices for life. Nobody had ever been able to accomplish that before.

"Think about it," she said severely. "Do you honestly want to accomplish all of those things? Do you honestly want to live a life full of negativity, full of dislike, disdain? Do you really, truly, want to throw away all of your brilliance for something so pointless?" Now she held a truly significant look. Her eyes darkened and her cheeks flushed a little with obvious meaning. "Tell me Tom: Do you honestly want to become Voldemort?"

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If that's not a cliffhanger, I don't know what is! Hah. Well, I'm sorry for the eleven-day wait, and I hope you liked this update. I'll try to be faster, but now that Spring Break is ending, I have to catch up on all the vacation homework I have.

Anyhoo, please review! Love & Cheers!


	17. Sixteen: Confessions of Hermione

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Words this Chapter: **_3,982

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**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Confessions of a Girl Called Hermione

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If the situation didn't require such a serious mood, Hermione might have just burst out laughing at the look on Tom's face. He went paler than he already was, which was _definitely _saying something. His mouth was slightly open, and his face bore such shock that he didn't bother hiding the emotion behind his eyes.

Abruptly, he stood up and tried to tower over Hermione. She wasn't intimidated, as most would have been, but she did slink back into her pillows. Her head was starting to throb.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but closed it after a few moments of having nothing to say. He began to pace the room. Hermione watched him silently, praying that she wouldn't have to confess the truth. Harry would have berated her for giving up so quickly after his departure. He was waiting for her, but she was not going to let him down.

Tom turned to her, his eyes flashing. She opened her mouth, but Tom furiously interrupted her before she spoke.

"How do you — where did you — who told you?" he asked furiously. When Hermione was about to answer, Tom added, "And don't you dare say we all have our secrets!"

Hermione resisted the urge to smirk. "It's true," she said. Noticing Tom's angry mouth open, she added, "I can't — I can't tell you, Tom."

Tom let out a growl in frustration. "You better tell me," he said, clearly posting a threat in his tone.

"Or you'll what?" said Hermione, now standing despite her numerous wounds and broken bones. Her voice dripped with challenge and Tom looked at her disbelievingly for a moment before answering.

"I'm capable of many things," he said quietly, his eyes not leaving her own. He was surprised, to say the least, when he noticed her rare skill in Occlumency. He didn't know many people who were skilled at it.

"I don't doubt you," Hermione said clearly. Tom smirked, thinking that she was remarkably intelligent for catching on so quickly. However, his smirk rolled off of his face when she added, "But I must say that I think _you_ doubt _me_. See, Tom, I am capable of quite a bit as well. I don't have to tell you every little thing."

"It involves me!" Tom argued, losing his temper, something he was rather good at. "How would you know my — er — nickname that resides strictly in Slytherin House? You were never a Slytherin, nor have you _talked_ to any Slytherins other than the time they —" Tom broke off, unwilling to bring up the almost-rape incident in front of the girl he was almost positive he was in love with. Instead, he said, after a slight pause, "You just…don't associate with Slytherins." _What a lame ending_, he thought with a sigh.

"You're right," Hermione said, slightly coldly. "I don't associate with Slytherins, nor will I ever associate with Slytherins. I never was a Slytherin, a fact I am fairly proud of. I'm glad you've observed the people I converse with, Tom."

"Then how do you know everything that you shouldn't?" he asked desperately.

"You really want to know?" asked Hermione, raising a brow and settling herself back into her hospital bed now that the yelling had ceased.

"It would seem so," Tom said sarcastically.

"You wouldn't believe me," said Hermione, now avoiding Tom's eyes despite the fact that he couldn't read her mind if he tried. She didn't want to look at him, because she knew that no matter what she said he'd insist that she tell him. And, worst of all, there was no escape: she was stuck in the infirmary.

"I'll believe you," Tom said softly, "because I love you."

Hermione raised her eyes to his, searching him. He had admitted this before, yes, but now she was desperate to see if it was true. She had never had someone who loved her, who cared for her beyond anything else. Here was the younger self of the man who had killed her soul, _loving_ her. Life sure enjoyed its ironies.

Hermione was shocked to find that Tom wasn't guarding his emotions behind his eyes. He seemed so genuine; his dark, midnight orbs bore into her own amber ones, holding sincerity and love in them. Hermione, who had thought this to be impossible, looked on, not missing the hints of attraction and desperation. Hermione saw that he really did love her, that he was not just trying to coax information out of her. Hermione smiled.

"Well…I suppose it won't kill me…if I tell you the truth…but if you don't believe me…" Hermione mumbled to herself, wondering what exactly she was planning on doing.

"I thought we've already established that I'm going to believe you?" Tom said, raising an arched brow.

"Wait till you hear what I have to say," murmured Hermione darkly.

She was still slightly apprehensive. Though Tom seemed as sincere as he probably could be, Hermione was unsure. What would Harry say if he knew she was revealing that she was from the future? Fifty-four years, to be exact! What if Tom was acting upon his seductive Voldemort qualities and really _was_ trying to get information for his own personal gain? What if she told him what he would become, and he used it to his advantage?

Hermione looked at him, to find him gazing patiently upon her. She smiled weakly. She knew he was growing restless. She knew he was so close to finding out what he'd wanted to know for so long and could hardly stand the anticipation. She knew he was eager to hear what she would say.

What would his reaction be? Hermione found herself wondering that very thing. Would he still claim he loved her? Would he leave her, laugh maniacally for falling into his trap, and use the knowledge to help him achieve his future? Would he still insist upon refusing the name Voldemort?

Tom, meanwhile, watched Hermione with a curiosity so intense that he thought he'd burst. She looked slightly green, though it may have been a side effect of her medicines. He thought, however, that she looked very nervous. This only piqued Tom's curiosity. What could she possibly have to say to make her so very apprehensive? Surely it wasn't anything too serious?

Though, Tom knew that it was probably something _very _serious. In the past months he had known Hermione, some of which he had referred to her as Skylar, he knew she did not get nervous, upset, or scared at just anything. She was extremely strong and powerful, this he knew firsthand. If the situation was simple and not a big deal, she wouldn't be looking so anxious.

There was also the setback that she had refused to give anyone a story on her arrival, as did Harry. It seemed only Dumbledore, who wasn't even the Headmaster, was the only one who knew any details about it. Dippet was quite obviously utterly clueless — he always was. Being months later, most of the student body had taken to treating Harry and Hermione as regular students, forgetting their abrupt and mysterious appearance. Tom, however, hadn't. He was still dying of interest.

He was eager to hear her response. Was she really going to tell him what he had longed to know from the beginning? He saw, from her facial expressions, that she was facing a serious internal battle between herself. He wondered, mildly, what he would do after receiving whatever information she would give.

Would he use it selfishly? Tom shook his head to clear out that thought. Would he stop loving her? Tom wanted to slap himself for even asking it inside his head, though he'd look slightly insane if he did so. Tom was pretty sure that nothing Hermione said could take away his love for her. He was exhilarated by the feeling. He was excited at the thought. How he had come to love her, he would probably never know. This didn't faze him, though. He didn't care _how_ he had found love in her; what mattered was that he did.

"Hermione?" he asked softly. He seemed to startle her, for she jolted off of the pillow and stared at him as though seeing him for the first time. "I'm sorry I startled you."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm just thinking," she responded. "I still don't know what to do."

Tom didn't really want to press her to divulge anything she didn't want to reveal, but his interest was eating him. "Just tell me."

Hermione looked at him, and whatever Tom had expected to see, anger was not it. She looked slightly agitated at him.

"TOM!" she yelled angrily. Tom jumped in surprise. She didn't look as angry as she sounded. "If you love me, as you just _insist_ you do, then you won't press me to tell you anything! You'd understand that there are some things I just can't tell you!"

"But if you loved me back, you'd trust me, Hermione!" Tom retorted. "You would trust me!"

Hermione paused. Then, so quietly that it was almost inaudible, she said, "I never said I loved you back."

Hearing this, Tom could practically _feel_ his heart shatter. He looked at her and saw her eyes lowered to the floor, her hands idly picking at her curly-but-bushy hair, her feet tapping the floor nervously. He backed away so fast-paced that in a matter of moments he was at the Hospital Wing door. Tom could have sworn, for a fleeting moment, that his eyes were watering, but he blinked back any tears that dared approach.

"You — you don't love me back?" he asked, his voice dangerously shaky and unstable.

Hermione didn't answer, because she didn't know. When Tom first told her he loved her, she was so surprised that she almost passed out from shock. To hear Tom Riddle say those words, to the Gryffindor know-it-all, best friend of Harry Potter no less, was something to be recorded in History. Hermione could see the headline now: _Young Voldemort Confesses Love for Hermione Granger, the Nobody Extraordinaire! _Hermione almost chuckled until she realized where she was.

She was so confused! Did she love him back? His confession was so abrupt that she couldn't have been more surprised if the future Voldemort joined the Light Side! She felt something distinct for Tom Riddle, this she knew. The question was, was it love? What did she feel?

She looked up, expecting to find the hurt face of Tom. Instead, she saw a pinch of wavy, black, smooth hair and a closing door. With only tears to keep her company, she fell into a merciful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Tom stormed across the halls, not even bothering to see if the Great Hall was constructed yet. First years scurried out of his way as they saw him pass; all of Hogwarts knew of Tom Riddle's mood swings, even the ickle firsties. As he headed for a destination unknown, Tom ran into someone he did not want to see: Abraxas Malfoy.

"Riddle," Malfoy said curtly, nodding his head coldly in recognition.

"Malfoy," Riddle acknowledged carelessly, feeling the burning sensation behind his eyes as he continued to think about Hermione. He hastily blinked it away before Malfoy could notice.

"You realize," said Malfoy lazily, "that we haven't had a meeting in months. Actually, it was a week before Skylar came, to be exact."

"Yes, well, I've had other things to think about," Tom said stiffly, knowing perfectly well what was coming next.

"You seemed to think, back then, I mean, that we were your top priority, Riddle," said Malfoy, now looking at him angrily. "Now we can't even call you by your name."

"My name is Tom Riddle," Tom said, hating the way his name sounded but using it nonetheless. "If I'm not much mistaken, you've been calling me 'Riddle' for the past few minutes. I'd hardly say that that isn't calling me by my name."

"You know what I mean," Malfoy snarled viciously. "I know it was that little Skylar bitch that changed you, Riddle, and mark my words: She will be your downfall!"

"She was Grindelwald's downfall," Tom said, "but I hardly think she will be mine."

"Ah yes, Grindelwald is gone!" said Malfoy, idly pricking his wand. "Isn't her little plaything — Astin, was it? — gone as well? Snuffed it, did he?" Malfoy laughed, so wickedly that it almost chilled the blood between Tom's bones. Malfoy suddenly moved so close to Tom that they were almost nose-to-nose. "If pretty Skylar isn't careful," he said threateningly, "she might just meet the same fate as her little friend."

Malfoy smirked triumphantly and stalked off. Tom, who was thoroughly pissed at Malfoy for thinking he was superior to him, followed after him. Adding up his rage toward Malfoy and his unknown emotions toward Hermione, he felt like venting. And having a wand only added to the fun. Using a wand on Malfoy was just icing on the cake!

"Malfoy!"

Malfoy's blonde hair swished as he turned around to face the angry Tom Riddle. Noticing his bared wand, Malfoy whipped out his own and smirked.

"_Expelliarmus_!" uttered Malfoy, ravishing his wand at Tom.

"_Protego_!" Tom said, deflecting the spell. "_Impedimenta_!"

Malfoy scowled as he froze in place, unable to move any further toward Tom. Tom used this as a chance to cause Malfoy a little pain for his back-talking.

"Well, Malfoy," said Tom, smirking, "See what happens when you talk back to those superior to you?"

Just then, Hermione's words came into play. _Would you consider prejudice or claimed superiority to those different from you a form of strength? _

_Claimed superiority to those different from you…claimed superiority…_

Was Malfoy really inferior to him? Was Tom really better than him just because he was powerful or more intelligent? What made him better? Anything? Nothing?

Tom seemed to lose track of the time, for his plan to cause Malfoy pain was shattered when Malfoy became mobile again and shot out a curse at Tom which caused blood spurting. Tom, not to be outdone, shot a gory one right back at him.

"Agh!" Malfoy screamed in pain. "_Reducto_!" The portrait behind Tom fell off of its wall right as the occupant ran into a neighboring portrait. The painting fell on Tom painfully; Tom let out a screech in pain.

"_Stupefy_!" Tom yelled. A red, bright light shot at Malfoy. Malfoy, who was expecting some gruesome curse, was not ready for the almost harmless flash of red and therefore was vulnerable toward it. Hitting him, Tom smirked and watched as Malfoy rigidly hit the floor, unconscious.

Just then, Professor Slughorn came rounding the corner, hearing the commotion of the portraits. Tom, who was surprised that a crowd had not formed, put on his best innocent face and watched as Slughorn's eyes rested upon the unconscious Malfoy, to the destroyed portrait of someone insignificant, to the bloody Tom, who had skillfully put away his wand before Slughorn could see it.

"My dear boy, what happened here?" Slughorn asked bewilderedly.

"I guess," said Tom, "I must have provoked Abraxas in some way, for he attacked me. In a matter of strict self-defense, I Stupefied him."

Slughorn narrowed his eyes, as though not quite believing him, but then, seemingly realizing that this was _Tom Riddle_, nodded his fat head. "Yes, son. I'll take Malfoy to the Headmaster. Why don't you go findyour way to the Hospital Wing?"

Tom could have groaned. He nodded reluctantly and turned around to head to the very place he was least willing to go to. He trudged as slowly as his feet would let him. He did not want to have to confront Hermione again.

When he reached to the infirmary doors, he opened them to find Madam Mayalle tending to Hermione, who was asleep. She looked better than she had earlier that day, though her cheeks were stained with tear tracks. Tom's heart swelled up; did _he_ make her cry?

Madam Mayalle seemed to notice the sound of the opening doors, for she finished with Hermione and turned around to face Tom. "Oh my, Mr. Riddle! What have you done?"

Repeating his story that he used on Slughorn, Tom told the matron what had "happened". She nodded sympathetically, muttering darkly about Malfoy, and hoisted Tom onto the bed that was so _conveniently_ positioned next to Hermione's.

After shoving multiple potions down his unwilling throat, the matron scurried into her office and returned with a horribly vile-looking, goopy purple potion that she poured into a goblet and set down on the nightstand by Hermione's bedside. She shook Hermione gently.

"Skylar, dear?" she asked. Tom wondered if he and Dumbledore were the only two to know that Hermione was her name and not Skylar.

Hermione seemed to be knocked out of her sleep, for she jolted up incredibly abruptly and looked around, muttering, "Ron? Harry?"

Seeing the matron and Tom, her expression darkened and turned sullen and she trotted her head back onto her pillow. "Sorry…" she said insincerely.

"Did you sleep alright?" Madam Mayalle asked concernedly, blatantly ignoring the steaming potion at the moment.

"Yes," said Hermione. "Did you slip in a Dreamless Sleep Draught? I find it odd that I wasn't having nightmares."

"Nightmares, dear?" asked Madam Mayalle.

"Memories, more like," said Hermione darkly, her eyes flashing with a ghost of regret. "I often recount my experiences in my dreams. Either way, I must thank you for slipping the Dreamless Sleep Draught into whatever potion you did. It was pleasant, not waking up in sweat."

Madam Mayalle had a look of utmost sympathy on her face. "Yes…Speaking of potions, I need you to gobble down this one. This is the last one…after this and a nice rest, you'll be free to go tomorrow."

Hermione looked at the proffered goblet in the matron's hand and almost gagged. "Is that a mixture of Skelegro and the Woundhealer Potion?" she asked, her voice slightly lower than usual.

"Why, yes it is!" Madam Mayalle said. "Not many know that, Miss Broston!"

"Hmm," was all Hermione said. She took the goblet and, plugging her nose, downed it in one gulp. It took all her control to suppress the urge to vomit.

"Yes, well, I'm heading in for awhile. It's almost curfew anyhow, and I'd like to get some rest. If you two need anything, don't hesitate to come to my office." With a slight inclination of her head, she bustled into the office that would one day be Madam Pomfrey's.

The silence that she left Tom and Hermione in was the most deafening silence either of them had ever heard. It was very awkward. Tom was still angry and heartbroken, while Hermione was still confused and hesitant.

"I'm sorry," she said after an unbearably long pause.

Tom made a noise sounding like "hmph" but she ignored it. She turned around in her bed, with a small amount of difficulty, and looked him dead-on in the eye. Tom found that he could not take his own eyes away.

"You don't have to say anything," said Hermione. "I just want you to listen.

"It's difficult for me, see," she continued, finally removing her eyes from Tom's and forming her body into a compromising sitting position. "If I told you the truth about me, I know you'd understand why. I don't know what to do! I don't want to let Harry down; I know that he'd be disappointed if I told you where I was really from…but I trust you, Tom. This is one of the hardest things I've had to make a decision about, which is _really _saying something. I — I think I should tell you, though…" She trailed off, her voice growing weaker as she tried to continue.

"I'm sorry as well," Tom said, letting his love for her overpower his anger. Her apology melted the majority of it, anyway. "I shouldn't have pressured you to say anything you didn't want to say."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Tom. Really, that makes this so much easier. I think I'm ready to tell you."

She inhaled a large breath, taking her time in exhaling. She sat up straight, looked him dead-on in the eyes and said firmly, "My name is Hermione Jane Granger. I'm from…" she faltered a bit, quickly recounting in her head the pros and cons of what she was about to say. After hastily deciding to damn it all to hell, she said, "I'm from the year 1997."

Whatever Tom had thought about where she was from, whatever he had expected her to say, that was most definitely _not_ it. He opened his mouth in complete and utter shock.

"1997?" he asked, feebly. "You and Harry are from the _future_?"

"Yes," she said. "I can understand if you don't believe me, or if you don't —"

"Hermione," Tom interrupted her, abruptly silencing her. "I believe you. I believe you more than you can imagine. This clears up so many curious things you've said or done. I understand it now…"

Hermione took another deep breath. "In 1997, the biggest war in Wizard history is going on. Let me summarize everything by saying this: You succeed in becoming Voldemort, Harry is prophesized to be your only equal, and he, Ron, and I have faced you many times in the past, narrowly escaping death each time. The fate of our world rests on Harry's shoulders. You've made life hell for him, and me. I've lost my entire life because of you — you killed everyone. We were in the middle of the Final Battle, when four of your followers shot curses at us, against your orders, sending us back in time. That's how we arrived here."

Tom's breaths seemed to come in short. He was processing everything she had just told him. How could she even be civil to him after everything he'd done for her? No wonder she was so surprised when he admitted his love for her! How could Harry have even passed him in the corridor without hexing his brains out?

Tom knew he should be ecstatic: He'd just realized that everything he wished to do in life happened! He succeeded in becoming the most feared wizard, the most powerful wizard, the evilest wizard! He succeeded in destruction! Yet, he could not be more upset.

It was _he_ who had destroyed Hermione's life. Tom was the one who killed every good thing out of his beloved's life. He was a monster!

He succeeded in becoming Voldemort, yes, but at the biggest price of all: destroying Hermione. He no longer wanted that life, not when he could see what it resolved with.

He looked up at her. She was facing the floor, flushing as though she were ashamed of herself. Surprising him, she spoke.

"I can understand if you don't want to love me anymore…" Her voice choked as it reached the end of her sentence.

"Me?" he asked disbelievingly. "Why would _I_ not love _you_?" Without waiting for an answer, he got out of his bed and walked to Hermione. He planted his lips on hers, and when she tried to open her mouth to grant his tongue entrance, he broke the kiss.

"Hermione, if anything, _you _should be the one who hates _me_! I destroy everything for you! I'm a monster! How do you look at me, in this time, every day, without hexing me to death?" He kissed her forehead and cupped her face in his hands. "Hermione, I don't want that path of life anymore. You've changed me. I don't want to turn into that — that thing! I don't want to ruin your life or Harry's life or anyone's life! Hermione, I love you!"

Hermione raised one of her hands and placed it atop Tom's. Looking him in the eyes, she said, without any hesitation, "Tom, I — I love you too."

* * *

I really liked this chapter! Please, oh please, review and make me a happy camper! Am I still portraying the characters all right? How am I doing? Did you like this chapter? I think this was so sweet! And finally, Tom knows!

Love & Cheers to you! And cookies to all of my reviewers! I love you guys! hugs


	18. Seventeen: Trouble Ahead

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Words this Chapter: **_2,974

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**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

_Trouble Ahead

* * *

_

After hearing the words that sealed their tentative friendship into something that neither of them had ever expected, Tom stayed by Hermione's side day and night until she was released from the infirmary three days later. Even though his back and neck were extremely sore from sleeping on a chair three nights straight, he thought it was well worth it to be by his girlfriend's side during the whole ordeal.

Yes, _girlfriend_. Sometime around the second day, when Madam Mayalle stated that Hermione no longer needed the disgusting creams, Tom had proposed that Hermione become his steady girlfriend, and Hermione had agreed wholeheartedly. They had decided to go public as soon as Hermione had recovered.

Tom literally never left her side from the bed in the Hospital Wing because all classes were cancelled until the following Monday. Not only was the Great Hall barely being reopened after finishing its refurbishing, but many of the teachers were injured after Grindelwald's death when his people became amazingly aggressive. So Tom had stuck with her day and night, constantly asking if she wanted anything, and only leaving his chair if she wanted a book from the library.

Finally, it was Sunday, the day that Hermione was due to leave the infirmary. Madam Mayalle had sternly told her that she could leave directly after lunch. She also kicked out a very angry Tom, telling him to eat a good meal and then come back to escort her to wherever she wanted to go.

"Why can't I just do that while staying in here?" he had asked hotly, staring down the slightly fearful matron.

"She needs to get prepared and she can't very well do that with you around, Mr. Riddle!" responded the huffy nurse.

So Tom had kissed Hermione, willing her to meet him outside of the Hospital Wing in twenty minutes, and shot a glare at Madam Mayalle before exiting through the large double doors.

Hermione had been treated to a complimentary pair of clothes (_what a treat_, she had thought sarcastically), though she eagerly put them on, both excited and frightened at what was to come when she and Tom announced their relationship.

She slid on the '40s style skirt and knee socks as she brushed out her hair. She ate a very light meal, the butterflies in her stomach prevailing over the proffered lunch. She took a deep breath and headed out the doors, thanking the matron for the more-than-necessary care.

Hermione saw Tom pacing in the corridor and she giggled. He seemed to have heard, for he looked up and smiled brightly when he saw her. He wordlessly took her hand and she had never felt a warmer feeling in her life. She still found it extremely ironic how she mutually in love with the man who ruined her life, but she was able to see past the man she once knew and into the man she had changed him into.

They walked to the Great Hall together, Tom confessing that he was standing outside of the infirmary the entire time and was rather hungry. Hermione emitted more giggles and leaned into him, kissing his earlobe affectionately. She heard him try to stifle a pleasurable moan. His lips grated over her neck and he nipped and sucked lustily on a certain spot.

"Hey now, none of that," she teased with difficulty as she tried to bite back the groan of bliss that was dying to be released. "Save it for later!"

Tom snorted and pulled her closer to him as they walked down the surprisingly empty halls of Hogwarts. They were both confused as to the emptiness but slipped it aside as they just enjoyed each other's company.

They reached the Great Hall a good ten minutes of cuddling and kissing later. Hermione was truly happy. Right before entering, she reached up onto her tiptoes and gave him another reassuring kiss. His hands found their way toward her hips and arse, one on each. He squeezed and she giggled into his sweet-tasting mouth. Her hands groped his chest for balance.

His lips once again left her mouth and found their way onto the sweet spot on her neck. She didn't bother hiding the moan as she arched her back and leaned into his touch. His one hand was still grabbing her arse while the other was tangling itself into her bushy hair. She, on the other hand, felt his erection and she giggled into his hair as he sucked on her neck.

"Ahh…" she sighed, pulling him closer. However, the doors opened unexpectedly when a third year and her friend wanted to exit.

This, of course, let the entire Hall, which was where the students that should have been in the halls were, see the completely surprising spectacle of Tom kissing Hermione's neck, while she arched into him, and he groped her, all at once, rather heatedly as though there was no tomorrow.

The shocked gasps broke the newfound couple apart. When they saw the startled third years, and then the Great Hall staring at them, they instantly knew what had happened. Silently, Tom grabbed an embarrassed Hermione's hand and pointedly ditched the Slytherin table and sat with her at the Gryffindor table. If the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were shocked before, this blatantly took the cake.

The Slytherins looked extremely scandalized. Abraxas Malfoy stood up in rage. He watched in utter revulsion as Tom nuzzled into Hermione and she giggled. He stormed over to the overly happy (and disgusting, in his opinion) couple and stood behind Hermione, grasping her and taking both she and Tom by surprise. As he snaked his arms around her, Tom was standing in a flash.

"Gerroff me!" Hermione yelled, kicking him. He made it obvious that she was causing him major pain, but he held on tight if only to spite Tom.

"You heard her," hissed Tom. "Get. Off. My. Girlfriend." The students in the Great Hall were watching the scene, half with fascination, half with fear. Here were Tom Riddle and Abraxas Malfoy, the two most dangerous students in the school, unless you counted Skylar and Astin, dueling and radiating pure hate off onto each other.

"Make me," he taunted.

"I will," Tom agreed as he took out his wand. "Remember that duel the other day? If you care for a repeat, stick around."

"Augh!" squealed Hermione as Malfoy's hands constricted her breath around her neck. Tom seemed to be mentally searching for a spell to use, the teachers were busy trying to calm each other down, and so Hermione took matters into her own hands.

_Crucio!_ she thought in her head, concentrating with all of her being on causing Malfoy and his descendants as much pain as possible. She felt the air pump into her lungs again as Malfoy's hands left her body. She turned around with smoking eyes and looked at the withering thing on the floor.

She contemplated just leaving him there as everyone around her, other than Tom and Dumbledore, wondered what had happened. _This is exactly what I did to Bellatrix, _Hermione thought, gasping. She grabbed Tom's hand, glanced at the unreadable expression on Dumbledore's face, and ran out of the Hall.

* * *

_**Abraxas Malfoy's POV**_

Abraxas lay on the floor, watching twitchily as Skylar and Tom exited the dining hall. He was angrier than one could even imagine. He knew what she had done to him, but while he was startled at how she had so much power, and _concentration_, he was still beyond furious at the pain and humiliation she had caused him.

Not to mention Lord Voldemort had disappeared. She had arrived with her _stupid_ little plaything, Astin Mottell, and while things were going great as Tom and Skylar hated each other, Tom had still for some reason cancelled their Death Eater Training meetings.

Abraxas, as a Malfoy, had always appreciated the Dark Arts and the bloodlines of people. It created the person, in his opinion. While Tom was a lowly half blood, he still proved to be extremely powerful, intimidating, and, best of all, dark. So Abraxas and the rest of the Slytherins had accepted him into their circle. Soon it became _Tom_'s circle that _they_ were a part of.

Eventually, for reasons that Abraxas knew not, Tom had sort of grown attached the little wench Skylar and forbid them to hurt her. While Abraxas disapproved, he listened to Tom because he knew — or thought — that Tom probably had a lot on his plate and would make up for the cancellations with extremely useful meetings later on.

However, Abraxas was infuriated to say that the meetings were never rescheduled and Tom's relationship with Skylar seemed to only increase. Sure, there was that two week period a few months previous where Skylar had droned about and blatantly ignored all of Tom's tries to talk to her. While Abraxas had not known what had happened between them around that time, he was glad that things between them seemed to grow tense.

However, that didn't last long, and Tom and Skylar had a tentative friendship yet again. It was only a matter of time until Abraxas could take only so much of it and brought matters into his own hands. That was the night he had been fully prepared to rape her. While he was angry at her for stealing away Lord Voldemort, he was very pleased when he saw her naked. _That has sure been covered up well. She really is a beautiful thing, especially in the nude,_ he had thought for weeks. He _still_ got hard thinking about her naked body. While it would have been better if she had agreed to do it with him, he doubted he would ever be able to rid that image out of his mind (and he certainly didn't want to!).

But then that damn friend of hers had interrupted what was sure to be the best night of his life (yes, he knew it was sad how he had to commit rape to get some!) and rescued her, and, even worse, _knocked him unconscious_! How embarrassing! His wrath, however, was nothing compared to Tom's.

And from that day on, Tom and Abraxas were hostile toward each other.

As he was rising up from the Great Hall floor, still shaken and wondering how Skylar had done something requiring so much power, he shook off Slughorn and Dumbledore, both of whom were helping him up. He stalked over to the Slytherin table, trying to drown out the annoying gossip circulating throughout the Hall at that moment.

He ate the remainder of his lunch in a livid silence, planning that the moment all of his old Death Eater buddies were done with their lunch, they'd meet up. He had something to say, and some revenge to commit.

"Boys," he said at the table, "Stop eating now and meet me in the common room!"

Without waiting for an answer, Abraxas left his seat and the Hall. He stalked sulkily toward the dungeons, which he reached pretty fast. "_Slithery Snake_" he said, indicating the password to the torched portrait of his House's founder. Salazar nodded curtly and opened up, admitting entrance to Abraxas.

He paced the common room upon entering it and angrily shot a spell at a second year. She dodged it just in time and scurried out of the portrait hole just as a bunch of seventh and sixth years came in. They made themselves comfortable among the many couches and armchairs, waiting for Abraxas to speak.

"Hello," Abraxas said coldly, taking charge because of Tom's absence. "I'm sure you've noticed the _lack_ of meetings we've had since Miss Skylar Broston came into our midst, have you not?"

There were many murmurs of assent. Abraxas smiled wickedly and continued speaking, silencing the group of curious people in front of him.

"Riddle always said that loyalty was the most important thing he could teach to us," Abraxas said, his nostrils flaring with anger. "We needed to be _loyal_ to him, he said. Well, look at him now. He's betrayed our loyalty, taken advantage of our lack of leadership, and left us in the dirt. He's been neglecting us, my friends."

"What a bastard!" a sixth year girl shouted. Abraxas nodded at her. Many other students agreed with the girl, shouting indignantly that they had been nothing but loyal to Tom and that he had betrayed them.

"Silence!" roared Abraxas, and silence reigned. "Yes. What we need, now, my friends, is revenge. Cold, sweet, revenge. And I think I have the perfect idea. It will help me get some with Miss Broston, while sabotaging Tom's relationship with her…"

"Oh, My Lord!" someone exclaimed, startling but pleasing Abraxas by the way of acknowledgement. "How are you going to accomplish that?"

"Two words," Abraxas announced with an overly large smirk on his pointed face. His blonde hair was silkily thrown over his shoulder, and his grey eyes flashed with his cold pleasure. "Polyjuice Potion."

* * *

**_Tom / Hermione POV_**

Tom followed her out of the Great Hall, as his hand was attached to hers, and was completely bewildered. She had just used wandless magic, which was beyond advanced. Even the Darkest or most powerful of wizards couldn't accomplish wandless magic, with one of the Unforgivables no less!

"Hermione…" Tom started, but was interrupted by a sharp tug of the hand which he instinctively knew as "later".

"So much for going public," he heard her mutter as she led him toward the seventh floor. "_That_ wasn't what I had thought it'd be like."

"I agree," he said, startling her, for she hadn't expected him to hear her. Finally, they reached a corridor with no doors. Tom was bewildered.

"Hermione, what —?"

"Shush," she said, and looked around. When she made sure that they were the only two in the corridor, she whispered something inaudible and a door popped open.

Ignoring Tom's confused sputters, she led him inside the door and it shut magically behind her.

"Listen Tom," she said, almost urgently. She turned to face him and he noticed that she looked a lot older than seventeen years old. Her face was thin and pale and her eyes had dark circles underneath them. Despite it all, he found her more beautiful than ever.

"This is where Harry and I have been sleeping for the entire time we've been here," she continued, disregarding his scrutiny of her. Tom's head popped up at this statement, and he realized that he had been craving to find out the location of their quarters almost the entire year. It was funny, he had thought, that the dormitory was no longer interesting to him.

"Wow. I'd always wondered," he murmured, watching her as she tried, with difficulty, to tear her eyes away from the extra bed and trunk. She inhaled a large breath and continued.

"Nobody other than Dumbledore, not even Dippet, knows about this place," she said, staring into his eyes. "This is really, really important!" she added touchily as he wordlessly excused himself to go to the bathroom.

"I —" Tom was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream, followed by many more.

Hermione and Tom exchanged a meaningful look, and then they laced their fingers together and rushed out of the dormitory. They followed the sounds of the screeches and, as they discovered the closer they got, sobs. They ran as fast as their scrawny legs could take them.

Finally, they saw it. At the foot of the deserted fourth floor corridor, laid a teenage boy with neat, curly, auburn-toned hair. A very small group of Ravenclaws were gathered around him, moaning and crying, but Hermione and Tom could both hear the sound of approaching footsteps. They pushed their way through the crowd and gasped at the sight that was before them.

Joe Shmoe was dead.

"Isn't that the Shmoe kid in Ravenclaw?" asked Tom, looking horrified.

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed. She kneeled onto the floor and stroked Joe's hair, surging a piercing jealousy through Tom. Tom had to shake off the feeling; he was _dead_, he told himself. Hermione's voice came into play again. "Yes, he was my Ravenclaw friendfrom Arithmancy!"

"How the bloody hell did he die?" Tom asked, kneeling down beside his girlfriend and throwing an arm around her for comfort. She began sobbing into his shoulder and he kissed her on the forehead, soothingly stroking her curls.

"It was murder," Hermione mumbled. "This wasn't an accident, this wasn't suicide. This was bloody murder."

Tom looked at her with horrification. "M-murder?" he asked repulsively. "Who'd murder Shmoe? He's a good guy!"

"There must have been a motive…," Hermione whispered to herself, dragging her body up from the floor. She saw approaching teachers and she figured that they'd want to take matters into their own hands, so she hurriedly spoke in hushed tones to Tom.

"Listen, Tom," she said. "This is serious. The teachers are going to investigate, become unable to find any clues, and give up within a week. This is really serious. We can't let this go forgotten. This was _murder_. Vicious, purposeful murder. They'll brush it off as an accident or some equal rubbish. I know, though, that he was murdered with a motive. We have to find out who killed him, and we have to find out _why_."

"_How_ do you know, though?" Tom asked, though he, too, shared her suspicions.

"You've never been to 1997," she whispered, avoiding the prying ears. The student population was still immensely curious about the Tom Riddle and Skylar Broston romance.

Tom looked at her and felt sympathy and admiration flush through him. He brought her against him and hugged her tightly, never wanting to let her go. "Come on," he whispered after a moment. "We're going to figure this out."

* * *

Hey, sorry for the long wait and the too-short chapter. I've mapped out the rest of this story till the ending, though, and so I should be able to update faster. It's just that the last chapter had a kind of un-continue-able ending, and I was struggling to find a good intro for this chapter. Well, I've found one, so here's the chap!

Love,

Cheez It


	19. Eighteen: Investigations in the Ministry

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**xxxCheezItxxx**

**Words this Chapter:** _4,887

* * *

_

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

_Investigations in the Ministry

* * *

_

Hermione watched horrifically and despairingly as various teachers shooed the gasping and gossiping students away from Joe's dead body. Tom was still clutching her, making her feel content despite the situation. They were currently hidden behind a statue, watching the scene unfold before them.

Professor Dumbledore, Professor Slughorn and Headmaster Dippet, after all of the students had been ushered away, lifted up Joe's limp body in their arms. Dumbledore looked grave, and Hermione knew that he had more than enough on his plate without having a death in the school. Dippet looked shell-shocked. Slughorn looked confused at how something like Joe's death could have happened.

Hermione was still sobbing, her body shaking and her face rosily warm. Tom held her in his arms, letting her let out all of her sorrows. This was yet another death she had seen in her lifetime. Tom's guilt trip still had not let up, and he doubted that it ever would. She had seen too much with those two eyes of hers, and it was his entire fault. Even the deaths she had seen in this time were his fault; he reasoned that if he wasn't a monster, she wouldn't have come into this time, therefore never seeing Joe's or Harry's deaths. He was a monster, a creature unworthy of her affections. While he was still befuddled why she loved him, he wasn't about to complain.

She let out a heart-wrenching sob once Joe was completely huddled in the Professors' arms. Tom knew why; there was a large pool of blood in the spot where his corpse had been, leading all five of the remaining spectators to the assumption that Joe had not only been murdered, but brutally so.

"How —?" Dippet asked, glancing from Joe's pale body to his colleagues.

"It shall have to be investigated," declared Dumbledore sternly and Hermione knew that he too shared her suspicions that the case would be forgotten about within weeks or even days.

"That much is obvious!" snapped Dippet, glaring at Dumbledore as though he had known that solution the entire time.

"Yes, but for how long are you willing to investigate?" Dumbledore asked calmly, staring down Dippet with inquisitive eyes. Hermione found Slughorn's silence odd and slightly disconcerting.

"As long as we need in order for the culprit to be discovered and punished!" Dippet exclaimed, looking offended that Dumbledore would think of his capabilities and intentions as lower than that.

"Hmm."

Dumbledore began to lead his two coworkers away from the crime spot. As he passed the statue that Hermione and Tom were hiding in, he smiled warily and conveniently forgot to _Scourgify_ the blood. Hermione knew that he counted on them to help investigate. _As if Hermione Granger would do anything less,_ Hermione thought with an inward beam of pride.

She hopped out of her hiding place once the three rounded the nearest corner. She knelt down onto the floor beside the pool of blood. "He really was a good guy," said Hermione quietly, despite the fact that her relationship with Joe wasn't very strong. "He warned me about the pedophiliac Arithmancy teacher."

Tom almost laughed. Almost. "Peddicord needs to get laid," was all he said and Hermione snorted. She had not imagined Tom Riddle capable of such language.

Her smile and amusement vanished as she looked back down at the rich blood beside her knees. The dark, medieval-red color that was laced atop the tiled floors was sprawled in an area of around twelve square feet, as Hermione noticed. She _Accio_ed a container of Tupperware from who knows where and as she received it, she leant forward, ready to scoop some of Joe's blood into the cup.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked as she got a good amount of the rich blood inside of the container, which she satisfyingly closed.

"I'm collecting some of his blood," she answered wryly. "It could help us with the evidence."

"How can _his_ blood help us when someone _else_ murdered him?" Tom asked as he cleaned away the rest of the blood.

"There could be poison in it," she said, examining the blood in the Tupperware closely. "I'd need a microscope or something to find out, but I could nonetheless find poison or some sort of evidence in his bloodstream. But," she added, looking directly at Tom, "that still wouldn't explain the mess of b-blood that we just cleaned."

Tom nodded, and then a thought popped into his head. "Er, Hermione? Wouldn't we need Joe's body to get the most evidence?"

Hermione looked at him for a moment, and then smacked her forehead. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "How could I have been so stupid? Well, we'll just have to get the body from the Professors."

"Cunning, aren't you?" Tom joked and looked mock-wounded when Hermione stuck out her tongue at him. Before she had a chance to put it back in her mouth, Tom swept over and captured it with his own. "That's what you get when you stick your tongue out at me," he said breathlessly as they came up for air.

"I'm not complaining," she responded and swooped his lips with her own again.

The kiss soon turned less-than-innocent and pretty heated. Hermione idly stuffed the container of Joe's blood into one of her robe pockets and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend's neck. Tom had no hesitation for pulling her closer with his seductively strong arms.

They had completely forgotten what they were doing in the middle of the corridor of Joe's murder until behind them, someone tried to stifle a chuckle. The two instantly broke apart; Tom, removing his hand from under the back of her shirt and Hermione removing her hands from his hair.

"What are you two doing here, Miss Granger, Mr. Riddle?"

Hermione instantaneously turned at the person who had interrupted them, scared at the use of her real name. Tom started too, but both smiled and breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the twinkle of Dumbledore.

"We came to collect a sample of Joe's blood," said Hermione, now serious once again, and she pulled out the Tupperware filled with the red liquid.

She handed the container to Dumbledore, who looked at her briefly before taking the container into his hands. He examined it not unlike Hermione had and handed it back to her, smiling faintly. "Very good, Miss Granger," he said beamingly.

"Why thank you sir!" Hermione said, smiling as she tucked the sample back into her pocket. She felt, as her hand went to the side of her body, Tom grab her hand, interlocking his fingers with her own. She smiled brighter.

"Sir, could you, er, tell us the location of Shmoe's body?" Tom asked, looking at Dumbledore pleadingly. He knew Hermione would not quit until she found the source of his murder.

"He is to be cremated," said Dumbledore worriedly. "I am not sure when, but his family's wishes were to cremate him. They were informed a few moments ago," he added at Hermione's open mouth. She closed it.

"We need to find him. I have evidence I need to retrieve," Hermione said frantically. "This could be a big thing having to do with the future. As I have never known a Joe Shmoe, I would have never second-thought it. Now, it could be extremely important. I need to find his murderer."

"Do not fret, dear," Dumbledore said kindly, patting her shoulder. "I will see to Mr. Shmoe's body and recover all possible evidence of the crime. You two, meanwhile," he added, now stern, "need to get to class."

"You're telling me that a kid has been murdered, here at the school no less, and we have to go to _classes_?" asked Tom incredulously.

"Now, Mr. Riddle —"

"No!" Hermione interjected as Tom almost launched forward _onto_ Dumbledore. "Tom, what has gotten into you?" she hissed, not waiting for an answer as she turned back to Dumbledore. "Listen, Professor," she paused to inhale a breath, "I was wondering — since, you know, Joe's death will most likely have some effect on my future — if Tom and I could skip classes today…and possibly go to the Ministry of Magic to find things that could help the case?"

"Dear child, I would be delighted to grant you permission. However," Hermione's face fell, "I do not think it would be advisable. Joe's death happened barely hours ago, if not less. It would not yet be logged into the Ministry's files. Even more, it is not my permission that matters; it is that of Professor Dippet. I'm sorry Hermione, but I can do nothing except get the evidence possible from Joe's body."

At this news, Hermione broke out in tears again and felt Tom's arms wrap around her shaking body immediately. "Shh," she heard him whisper. "Dippet will let me go."

Hermione looked up at him. "Do you think so?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

"I will _not_ let you go!"

Hermione cried out in frustration, shocking the Headmaster who was in front of her. Tom was agitated as well, but he knew that showing this fact to Dippet would do nothing to help their situation.

"Well you aren't doing anything to help find our Joe's murderer!" Hermione screeched coldly, grabbing one of Dippet's slippers from the side of the room and chucking it at him.

"Miss Broston!" Dippet yelled simultaneously along with a chorus of "Hermione!" from Tom.

Hermione looked at Dippet, where he had a red blotch on the side of his face from the slipper.

"I am doing everything in my power to solve this case!" Dippet huffed indignantly, standing up angrily and looking at Hermione. She was less than intimidated. _Much _less.

"Yeah, like taking his body out of the hallway!" she snorted in response. "You just don't want this to get out to the _Daily Prophet_ and ruin your lovely reputation!" Dippet's face turned an ugly shade of puce. "Well, news flash, buddy: Your reputation is already as good as hippogriff shit!"

Even Tom had to let out a laugh, which he skillfully disguised as a cough. _Wow, that was low_, he thought, eyeing Dippet's expression, _but so funny_!

Dippet, meanwhile, was looking at Hermione with his nostrils flared, his plum-shaded face glowing, his remaining hair looking dumpier than usual. He walked over to her and stood next to her at such a close distance that Hermione backed away not out of fear, but disgust.

"That was inappropriate," Dippet began.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Hermione interjected, "Because if it wasn't insulting, I wouldn't have said it."

Dippet tried his best to ignore her. Tom noted that his fists were curled around his desk so tightly that his knuckles were a ghostly color. "I cannot have my students speaking to me with such disrespect. I'm sorry Miss Broston, but I must expel you."

Hermione's mouth dropped open as though someone had thrown a ton of stone over her head. "You can't expel me!" she uttered frantically. "I'm the best student here!" She gave an apologetic look at Tom, but he didn't seem to care about what she said for he, too, stood up with a flushed and angry face.

"Be that as it may, you have no right to treat your professors, let alone headmaster, with such a disregard for respect. I've also heard that you insulted the Potions Master a few months back."

"Yeah," Hermione said hotly, "A few _months_ back! It's forgotten! Uncared for! How am I not supposed to get angry when a friend of mine gets murdered and you could care less whether or not his killer gets found?"

"I'm sorry," Dippet said, taking deep breaths and obviously trying to control the fury that he felt. "I'm expelling you."

He bent over to grab the expulsion documents from his desk when Tom stepped up. Dippet looked up at the sound of his favorite student's voice. "Dippet," he said coldly, which surprised the man, "If you expel her, you're expelling me too."

Dippet gaped like a fish. "I — what? Tom, don't do that, old boy! You have great things planned for you; you could go so far —"

"So could she," Tom stated. "She's just as, if not more so, competent than I am."

"Tom, don't let some schoolboy crush stand in your way of success!" Dippet all but shouted, truly upset now.

"IT IS NOT A SCHOOLBOY CRUSH!" Tom raged, literally causing his headmaster to jump back in fright. Hermione grabbed his hand to calm him down, but it did little. However, his voice piped down a bit. "I am in love with this woman. Therefore, if you expel her and ruin her future because of something you brought onto yourself, then you are going to do the same exact thing to me."

Dippet looked between the two and sighed resignedly. He didn't want to lose his best student, but the Broston girl was far beyond forgiveness. "Fine. Neither of you are expelled. But I swear — one more word of disrespect from _her_ and she is out of my school."

"No worries, _Dippet_," Hermione sneered.

Dippet looked like he wanted to smack her. "Good day, Headmaster," Tom interrupted the silent fight. Together, he and Hermione left the Headmaster's office.

"I have him wrapped around my finger," he whispered to her haughtily, sending those deliciously warm shivers (oxymoron, anyone?) down her spine.

"But, he didn't give us permission to go to the Ministry," said Hermione slightly perplexed.

"That's not going to stop us."

* * *

_I am so stupid. I am so bloody stupid._

Hermione felt no desire to shake off these self-destructing thoughts as she swept through the streets surrounding the Ministry of Magic. She and Tom had decided — or rather, Tom had begged and brought out an adorably irresistible set of puppy-dog eyes that Hermione did not know existed — to sneak out of Hogwarts to get to the Ministry. As the clock struck midnight, Tom and Hermione billowed quietly through the hallways of their school, surprisingly not passing anybody except for Apollyn Pringle's odd-looking kitten. Hermione noticed a weird similarity between this cat and Mrs. Norris, but shook it off as she had led him to the one-eyed witch passageway.

Looking back, she was not so sure that that was the best idea. Wasn't it the Marauders who had found that passageway? What if she had altered time by taking Tom there, and somehow prevented the Marauders coming there, and then in a weird way stopped the Marauder's Map from being created? That would have a terrible consequence in more than one era, and she knew.

However, she ignored Tom's impressed confusion as they had gone through the passageway. There was nothing she could do about it; she had already shown it to him. They had made their way into the cellar of Honeydukes — Hermione was already sweating from the nagging sensation of guilt at coming into Hogsmeade when she was banned from it such a long time before. Not having enough time to dwell on such inescapable matters, they made their way through the back alleyways of Hogsmeade into an unknown area of slated stone. Even though they both acquired their Apparation licenses (they were both past seventeen years old), Hermione Apparated on Tom's arm because she was unsure if the Ministry could track down unregistered Apparations, and she was hardly registered in this time frame.

They had Apparated to the location of the Ministry and were currently squeezing their way through the surrounding trees and bushes. _Damn, there are a lot of plants_, Hermione thought as a berried bush cut her arm. She cursed softly. Where was that bloody telephone booth?

Hermione was having serious doubts and regrets by this time. How could she, the girl with the most brilliant mind, have been so bloody _stupid_? Dumbledore was right! Joe's death had happened mere hours before, and would hardly have any background information in the Ministry! Besides, if they were caught out of the castle, both she and Tom would be out of Hogwarts before they could say 'Joe Shmoe'! Not only were they banned from leaving Hogwarts altogether, but Dippet had specifically forbidden the very trip they were on!

Besides, how would they be able to find any information? Hermione's mind had failed her momentarily, costing her logic abilities for a few threatening minutes. She had thought she was back in 1997 for a moment, that she could go into the Ministry and research information on the death of Joe Shmoe. However, she realized too late that she was in fact in the year 1944, with Joe's death not even a day old. There was no way to research it. She shared her worries with Tom.

"Well," he said after a pause, "seems like we're in deep shit, doesn't it?"

"It would seem so," she said sarcastically. She was not in the _mood _for his mood. "What are we going to do? We can't just go back to the school, and the Ministry's not going to have anything for us to go by!"

"Not to mention the security guards will probably throw us out and contact Dippet, and then we'll be expelled," Tom added bitterly.

"Yes, that too," Hermione agreed, putting her head in her hands. "I just thought that we were back in my time for a moment and that I could research his death and…oh Tom, I'm so sorry!"

Hermione removed her head from the palms of her hands and Tom saw that she was fighting tears. He launched onto her and captured her body against his own. He whispered consoling nothings into her ear and stroked her lusciously bushy (as he thought of it) hair with his pale fingers. "Don't cry…"

"It's — fault — mine — so stupid — hate myself — gah!" she whimpered in between muffled sobs. "I'm sorry!"

"Shh," he cooed. "Don't be sorry. You had a good idea and acted on it. It isn't your fault, love. Shh…" Tom petted her softly for a few more moments before she calmed down and wiped her eyes. She looked up at him and he was heartbroken to see her lovely amber eyes full of sadness and self-hate.

"What are we going to do?" she asked quietly.

"We're going to go in there," he said simply.

"Oh!" she exclaimed and jumped away from him so suddenly that he had to grab a tree branch for balance. "We should research anything we can about Joe Shmoe! Even if his death isn't filed yet, I'm sure we can find out a great deal by just looking into his files!"

Tom smiled. "See, that brilliant mind of yours is _not_ a waste!" She laughed and playfully smacked him.

"I just wish we had Harry's invisibility cloak," she said thoughtfully. "Oh well, no use dwelling on something we can't control. Come on; let's find that blasted phone booth!"

Together and linking hands, the pair maneuvered through the many bushes and trees trying to find the stupid talking phone booth. Tom, to his embarrassment, tripped over a tree root. It wasn't until he was on the floor (on his arse) that he realized it _wasn't_ a tree root.

"What in the name of Merlin is _that_?"

Hermione turned around and helped him up, but he didn't budge as he stared fixated on the thing that he tripped on. She bent down to crouch next to him. "What is it, Tom?"

"I — I think it's a — a _bone_!" he exclaimed, shocked.

"WHAT?"

"Look at it, Hermione! That's not a tree root — it looks like a human bone!" he said and Hermione looked utterly disgusted.

"Well," she said, obviously trying to guise her disgust, "Perhaps an injured wizard left it behind?"

"Very possible," Tom muttered, feeling like blanching, as he stood up and once again took hold of Hermione's small hand.

"Look!" she said after a silent few minutes. "It's the phone booth!"

"Come," he said, jogging over to it. They reached it and both tried to regain regular breathing as they opened the door to enter.

"Dial the number," said Hermione. Tom looked at her blankly. "Oh, fine, I'll dial!" Her fingers pushed the buttons 6-2-4-4-2. As her fingers removed themselves from the dial buttons, the cool female voice spoke.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

Hermione and Tom exchanged a quick look, before Hermione spoke again. "S-Skylar Broston and Tom Riddle…we're here to investigate Joe's death since nobody else will!"

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

Hermione yelled impatiently, "Let us in you stupid booth!"

The voice faded away and two badges slipped onto the silver the floor of the phone booth gave way. Tom and Hermione landed in the floor of the Atrium. Hermione looked at Tom apprehensively and whispered, "Er, Tom, how can I present my wand if I'm not even Skylar Broston?"

"Don't worry," Tom said darkly. "There aren't even any guards around. Look at this."

Hermione looked around and saw that Tom was right. This brought back a weird sense of déjà vu from two years before. _Please, oh please, let no Dark Lord be in here…_ she silently prayed, later realizing that Tom was the only potential Dark Lord around.

"I wonder why nobody is here," Tom mused aloud as they snuck past the wand registration counter and toward the lift that would take them to the right floor.

"Dunno," answered Hermione.

They crept onto the lift and watched the doors closed. The lift rose to the appropriate floor, where the female voice from the phone booth said calmly, "Level Eight. Citizens of the Magical Community, including the Department of Our Wizards' Lives, Department of our Witches' Lives, and Department of Our Squibs' Lives." The door opened and Hermione and Tom stepped inside.

They saw many corridors. Looking around for any sign of direction, they stumbled upon a faintly glowing map. Looking at it, they found the wizards' section to be toward their left. They followed the left corridor until they came upon many a door. There had to be at least fifty doors in that crowded hallway, for each was labeled with "Newborn", "Below Ten", the ages following the Hogwarts years, all the way through adulthood and elders. Hermione and Tom slipped through the one labeled "Seventeen".

They hopped inside, looking at the numerous filing cabinets in the room. While both were nervous and jumpy at the lack of guards, they were excited to finally be able to find out things about Joe that could help avenge him.

Hermione started toward one of the many cabinets labeled "S – T". She looked inside, looking for the name "Shmoe". After many minutes of fruitless searching, she found Joe's file.

"Tom, I've got his file!" she exclaimed to Tom, who was searching through the "I – J" files, presumably for Joe's first name. He looked up and saw her holding a very large folder, probably held closed by magic.

"What's it say?" he asked as she opened to the last page. "Is his death recorded?"

"Very precisely so," she said, amazed as she read aloud the context. "'Joe Shmoe died on Wednesday, fourteenth March, nineteen forty-four, twelve twenty-seven p.m. (Wed. 143, 1944, 12:27 p.m.) Murdered inside Charms corridor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Culprit of this crime not yet known. To be cremated Sunday, eighteenth March, nineteen forty-four, sixteen thirty p.m. (Sun. 18/3, 1944, 04:30 p.m.)'"

"Wow, that's really, _really_ accurate," Tom said aloud. "If they knew the exact time and everything, wouldn't they know the person who did it?"

"That's what I thought," said Hermione.

"Well, let's look throughout his life files. Maybe if we can find any enemies of his, we can narrow down the suspects."

Tom and Hermione spent the next two hours inside that room, searching through Joe Shmoe's life. They were both only half-asleep when they finished, barely able to put the folder back in its rightful place.

"What did you find out?" asked Hermione after a yawn as they found themselves walking back toward their desirable Apparation spot. They were not met with any guards as they exited the Ministry, which both pleased and scared them. It was not normal, but Hermione thought herself lucky for it.

"Well," said Tom, thinking thoroughly, "I found out that his parents named him Joe Bo Shmoe." Hermione tried to look stern while Tom laughed at his own finding, but she found it was too silly not to laugh at.

"Poor kid," she commented, but went back to her firm manner. "Come on, Tom, what have you found out that can _help_ us?"

"Alright, alright!" he gave in. "His lifelong enemies circulate around five people. Since he was seven years old, his parents made him hang out with Ferdinand Prince, a now-Slytherin. Ferdinand was never nice to him ever since Joe accidentally spilled his pudding on him. So since then, they've been making each other's lives hell, and so that is one possible suspect. I can corner him and interrogate him, if you like."

While Hermione thought Joe's enmity with Ferdinand was stupid, along with the idea of Tom using his intimidation to scare Ferdinand into a possible confession, she agreed. "Who are his other enemies?"

"I don't remember why, but I know Simon Potter and Jim Longbottom are his enemies. It said so, in that file, but the reason was something stupid…"

"I don't think they could have done it," said Hermione. "Are you sure you can't remember the reasons?"

Tom racked his brain. "I — er — oh! Potter and Longbottom always played pranks on the kid and so Shmoe took matters into his own hands and fed them a chopped up blast-ended skrewt in one of their dinners. Since fourth year, they've had an all-out prank war, very discreetly. Some of the things got pretty gory. I remember once, last year, Shmoe actually poisoned them in Potions and it turned out that the poison caused profuse bleeding. Potter and Longbottom were in the hospital wing for weeks."

Hermione stored this, along with Ferdinand's case, into her mind for later. "Go on, who else?" she urged.

"Some fellow Ravenclaw of his," he said. "Her name is Elle Bookman, no pun intended." He chuckled. "She was his first girlfriend, sometime earlier this year, and then he broke up with her and she swore to extract her revenge. You don't think…?"

"It was someone," she said. "Anyone is a suspect. Even some girl that he broke up with."

"Well, there is one more person who didn't like Joe. This time, the feeling wasn't mutual. Joe thought they were friends. It was someone outside of school, named Julius Zabini. An Italian bloke, who went to Beauxbatons. I don't know what made Zabini hate him so much, but he did. I think it's Annabelle Zabini's brother. She's a fifth year, I think, at Hogwarts."

The rest of the walk was silent. They reached the Apparation point and Hermione, deciding to be creative, connected her _lips_ to Tom's in order to complete the side-along Apparation. Tom didn't complain as he Apparated them to the cellar of Honeydukes.

However, he seemed a bit distracted as he Apparated and kissed Hermione at the same time, and ended up Apparating to the Hogwarts gates. Neither complained, but didn't know how to open the gates.

Finally, Hermione thought of a spell that she could use. It worked in 1997, anyway, when this same predicament occurred (although, it was Hermione, Harry, and Ron sneaking out for a Butterbeer after Hermione was announced as Head Girl).

"_Zerefecto Raectium_!" she shouted, pointing her wand at the gates.

They sprang apart and Tom looked amazed. "How did you do that?"

"Harry, Ron, and I created it earlier this year, back home, when we snuck out for a Butterbeer. Come on, I bet the wards and alarms and whatnot are going haywire right now. We'd better get inside!"

Tom looked like he wanted to ask more about the spell, but decided not to as they crept through the Entrance Hall, managing to avoid any teachers, and toward Hermione's private rooms.

After checking that the coast was clear, they went inside her dorms. "Would you like to stay the night?" she asked him.

"Sure," he said and he removed his shirt. Hermione stared. His body was pale but very, _very _attractive.

"You don't play Quidditch — how is your body so damn fit?"

"When I still wanted to be…You-Know-Who," (Hermione almost chuckled at Tom calling himself what the wizard world called him) "I would work out sometimes to keep my body physically fit in case I needed it in my immortal transformation."

Hermione said nothing, but nodded and changed into her pajamas after telling Tom to turn around. Finally, they both went into their respective beds. (Tom took Harry's.)

"Tom?" Hermione called after a few moments of silence. A grunt. "I can't sleep. Can you come into bed with me?"

Another grunt. Hermione was put out until Tom got up from his bed and cuddled into hers. Hermione positioned herself in his embrace, with her arm on his bare chest and her legs intertwined with his. Feeling extremely content, she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Wow, this was LONG. Well, I hope it made sense and stuff. I don't know when the next one will be up, but PLEASE review!

Cheers,

Cheez It


	20. Nineteen: Meddlers Enter the Picture

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**I Am Cheez It. Hear Me Roar.**

**Words this Chapter: **_4,099_

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

_When the Meddlers Enter the Picture

* * *

_

Hermione stared out the window, sucking in all of its beauty. She had never appreciated how beautiful nature was until she had taken those walks that she used to go on, before the "Slytherin Boys" incident.

But, now, looking out of the glass window paneled by grey-rimmed wood, she realized just how underrated the scenery was…

_I sit here, contemplating my thoughts…  
__The window, a canvas of life  
__The silhouettes of scenery in my line of view  
__Lost in the colors surrounding my imagination_

_The sun, a beam of smiles set in the sky  
__The moon, highlighting the midnight hues of mystery  
__The stars, glittering messages dominating the night  
__The sky, a royal paint spread before my eyes_

_The wind, dancing gusts of power in the air  
__The clouds, pillows shadowed in illusive shapes  
__The rain, hail, snow, droppings of beauty  
__The atmosphere, breath symbolizing life_

_The trees, tall sculptures of natural joy  
__The bushes, home to hiding creatures  
__The flowers, blooming canvases of color  
__The grass, green snippets of homage_

_The dirt, soft trails to follow  
__The roads, handmade paths of craft  
__The sand, soft massages laid by the ocean  
__The water, delicious necessity replenishing our minds_

_I sit by this window  
__Staring at the picture painted in front of me  
__Colors and images swirling to form solidity  
__Underrated illusions of my world…_

Hermione sighed, holding her head up by her palm and staring out into the world outside of the Hogwarts walls. The world where she had never truly been safe, but liked to feel she was.

She turned her head reluctantly, away from the subliminal splendor in front of her, and back to the table in the library where she was currently stationed. There were multiple pieces of parchment taking up her space at the table, along with quite a few books, quills, and ink spills. Hermione had been researching Joe's murder since the moment she woke up — which, she had to admit, felt rather cold and lonely when she found Tom already out and about.

Currently, he was at a Prefect-and-Heads meeting, discussing something about such-and-such, while Hermione was trying to find as much evidence as she could. She had come across many good suspicions, as well.

"It can't be Ferdinand Prince…" she mumbled aloud, which she tended to do often while thinking very hard. "He's been in St. Mungo's for three years with…_mysterious brain damage_? Good lord, who —?"

She stopped abruptly as she noticed a swish of a cloak turn a corner and hide behind a bookshelf. She peered between the books to see if she could make out a face, but saw nothing. Figuring it was merely a figment of her over-paranoid imagination, she turned back to her research.

She knew she shouldn't be dwelling over Ferdinand Prince's 'mysterious' brain damage when she had his enemy's murder to accommodate to, but she couldn't help but have aroused suspicion at the fact that nobody knew the source of his disease.

She looked back down on the parchments in front of her. She had found files of Joe's enemies to research information about them, starting with Ferdinand, but she hadn't found much of a discovery. She had only succeeded in one more mysterious case that she felt she had to work out. She sighed and discarded Ferdinand's files for the present time.

Next, she pulled two different files of two different people into her hands. In her left, were those of Simon Potter, and the right bore those of Jim Longbottom. She honestly didn't believe that either of these Gryffindors committed murder on an innocent Ravenclaw, but they were reported enemies of Joe's and she thought it would be an insult to his memory if she neglected searching these two.

She grabbed Jim's first, being more well-acquainted with Simon and therefore more disbelieving of his guilt, and opened it. The first piece of parchment didn't really help; it merely showed his basic information. She skimmed through the remaining pages, literally laughing at some of the pranks recorded into this dossier. She didn't mean to be cruel toward Joe, but honestly, these boys had a cleverer imagination than Fred and George! Well, almost.

She found nothing, however, after another twenty minutes scanning the profile. She sighed and felt her stomach let out a protestant grunt. She realized at that moment that she was starving. Glancing at the clock hanging in the library by the librarian's desk, she saw that it was the beginning of lunch. She wanted to go and eat to help satisfy her unhappy stomach, but at the same time, she felt obligated to discover the mystery behind Joe's abrupt death.

She placed a hand on her stomach, as though hoping it'd stop its obnoxious grumbling, and tossed Jim's file next to Ferdinand's. Both were innocent. Turns out that while Ferdinand was in St. Mungo's, Jim was actually — gasp! — not with Simon Potter scheming new pranks, but in the Great Hall with multiple other students who witnessed Jim's innocence.

Hermione groaned at her lack of progress and grabbed Elle Bookman's folder. This was going to be awhile, she predicted, before she'd be able to get to the lunch she was so eagerly waiting for.

* * *

_**Abraxas Malfoy's POV **_

It took forever for my muscles to stop twitching at the smallest form of contact. After that Broston bitch left, with Traitorous Tom swiveling after her, the teachers _finally_ realized that I had just been severely injured. While I hate to admit the 'severe' part, it's true; I could hardly move after that ordeal.

It seemed that Dumbledore was the only teacher in the school that had any idea what had happened to me. He looked livid as his blue, twinkle-less-for-once eyes followed the two out of the Hall. He then commanded silence, which I was grateful for due to my sensitive body from the Cruciatus, and let me finish my lunch. I knew he wanted to send me to the Hospital Wing, so I left before he could.

After that mischievous meeting with my fellow Slytherins, Slughorn entered the common room and found me talking to the other students. His way-too-big belly seemed to move to its own accord rather than Slughorn's movements as he whisked me off to the Hospital Wing.

I was in a rotten mood by the time we reached the perfectly white, sterile doors. I was extremely reluctant to enter, but Slughorn actually threatened to dock points if I didn't. While I could care less if he took off five points or one hundred, I knew some of the more selfish housemates of mine (cough, all of them) would be mad at me and then would refuse to help in my lovely plan to destroy the relationship between Skylar and Tom.

Madam Mayalle, the nurse who is too uptight for even a _two-hundred_-year-old let alone a thirty-year-old, came bustling over to me, her skirt waggling along her thick legs. She was carrying an extremely horrifying potion. Seriously, it was a disgusting puke green mixed with a grayish color. It tasted worse than it looked. I literally spit up half of it in that busybody's face.

So let me tell you, it was an extreme relief to be released from the hell that is the Hospital Wing. All that off-white color was fizzing up my brain! It clashes horribly with my hair, too. That's always a negative.

I was on my way to the library, no longer woozy from the Unforgivable Curse that Broston placed on me, and prepared to actually _ask_ the librarian where the Potions texts were. Then I saw her: Skylar Broston. She was sitting alone at a large table by the window, staring out of it in a transfixion. I heard her sigh a few times, as though dreaming and my lower areas began to act up as though her sighs were those of pleasure. I really do wish I could control my own body's reaction to her.

Well, she was beginning to knock out of dreamland, so I hurried up and asked the librarian about the Potions text. She pointed out the designated area and I treaded over there. Unfortunately, my robes got caught on the lower shelf as I turned the corner past Broston's desk, and her head snapped up right when I disappeared. I knew she'd probably look through the impeccably small cracks between books, so I dropped onto my stomach waiting for her curiosity to cease. This was a completely ungraceful act for a Malfoy, let me tell you, so I was relieved when I heard the scratching of her quill again.

I looked through the cracks and saw that she was surrounded by folders and parchments. I had a feeling she was investigating that Shmoe guy's death, which is one intelligent decision she's had since she came to this school. Even _I'm_ curious at who could have successfully murdered a Ravenclaw, the cleverest of students, inside Hogwarts' own walls. It amazes even me. I know for a fact it wasn't any of my Slytherin friends, and that just makes me all the more curious.

To pull off a trick that bad inside of this school is nearly impossible. I swear; the alarms in Hogwarts go haywire if someone so much as accidentally steps foot in the wrong classroom. Well, maybe not, but it's just as bad! I don't understand how someone was capable of murder right under Dippet's — or more like Dumbledore's — nose.

So anyway, I was perched behind a stack of obnoxiously large, dull-looking books about Potions. Well, it was going to sure be _fun_ finding the book on Polyjuice Potion. I knew that Slughorn was bound to have some in his supply stores, since he has pretty much everything and I was _not_ willing to wait a month for my brilliant plan to take action.

I needed to look up Polyjuice Potion in order to identify which potion in his storage was the right one. I wasn't about to grab a random potion and hope it's the right one, you know? Besides, I didn't want Lestrange to get caught and then have the wrong potion. Yes, I sent him to get the potion, because if _I_ got in trouble, I'd be stuck in detention! We couldn't have that, now!

Finally I found the right book. It took me long enough, but hey; the prettiest can't always be the fastest. Looking back at Broston, I saw that she had discarded about four of the five folders and was reading the last with wide eyes. I supposed that she found the culprit of Shmoe's death. Hmm. I would have to ask her later.

Grabbing the book, I slunk out of my aisle as quickly and quietly as I could so that I didn't attract Broston's attention. I think it worked, because she didn't even look up and her eyes were bulging at the parchment in front of her. I snickered at her expression, wanting to taste her luscious lips upon mine again, even if mine were going to be Tom's. I bet that doesn't make sense right now, but all in good time…

Well, I arrived back at the Slytherin dormitories and found none other than pretty boy Tom Riddle. I bet he didn't see this coming…

* * *

_**Overall POV**_

Tom walked out of the Meeting Room on the fourth floor and headed back to the Slytherin common room, deciding to stay there even though he was most likely unwanted there. He was going to leave at lunch, anyway, and see how Hermione had done on her research. He wished he could have been there with her. He knew she had done well; he could just feel it. Besides, what did she ever _not_ succeed in?

He opened the dormitory door and headed down the stone stairwell, firmly grasping the handrail as he did so. It was odd, he reckoned, how cheerful he truly was. It might have been the fact that he had awoke side-by-side with the love of his life, or perhaps it was because he knew that Hermione would figure out Joe's murderer and he knew it was sweep a heavy load off of her chest. He smiled just thinking about her.

He went so far as to whistle a tune he'd heard recently as he descended the stairs. One curious head turned his way as he did so, but other than her, Tom was undisturbed. He had a feeling, as he headed toward lunch, that it was going to be a great day.

However, that feeling ended abruptly when he crashed into something — or rather, someone. A hand tightened around his throat and another thrashed his waist. He tried every bit of wandless magic and Muggle self-defense that he knew as the person led him toward a dark closet, but it was useless as his mind was preoccupied with trying to breathe in air that was constricted from him. And he knew, as well as any other skilled wizard, that wandless magic was useless unless the caster was completely focused.

As his breaths came in shorter, he grew angry. He was determined to meet Hermione in the Great Hall and he was going to do so, whether this stubborn asshole was trying to prevent it or not. Tom kicked behind him and heard a sharp intake or breath. He knew he had hit the attacker in the area where it hurt. He smirked, hoping the grip on him would loosen enough for escape. While it did loosen a bit, the person was obviously prepared for Tom's strategy, for the grip was still too tight to break free.

Tom snarled in frustration, in between gasps, "Let — me — go — need — to — meet— Hermione —"

Tom could almost _hear_ the smirk in the person's voice as he said, "Well now, we can't have that happen, Riddle."

Instantly, Tom's eyes bulged with steaming fury. The person holding him hostage and currently stuffing him in a closet despite his physical protests was Abraxas Malfoy. Malfoy released his grip on Tom's neck, and Tom inhaled large breaths, loving the refreshing feeling that breathing tends to give. Hoping he could escape now that Malfoy had let go, Tom made to stand, but was interrupted by another snaky hand wrapping itself around his waist.

"'Ello, Tom," purred an intoxicatingly feminine voice that completely disgusted Tom.

"Persia," he mumbled in recognition, sighing as Persia Black's hands snaked their way all over him. "Get off of me, you whore."

"Now, Tom," she reprimanded, "that is no way to talk to someone who's willing to go out of their way — to — please — you…" In between kisses she managed the finishing words. Tom felt utterly dirty as her hands explored places that he would only let Hermione touch.

Malfoy sneered in satisfaction as Tom's face contorted into a mixture of rage and disgust. "Get off of me, Persia!" he kept repeating, unsuccessfully.

"Well, Riddle, I must be going. I have a few select people to discuss certain matters with," Malfoy said silkily as he leaned over and plucked a hair out of Tom's head.

Tom knew instantly what Malfoy was planning to do. "No!" he screamed as loudly as he could. "Why are you doing this?"

"You betrayed us, Riddle," Malfoy said coldly. Turning, he called out, "Lestrange!" Instantly, the boy came over holding a vial of disgustingly colored potion. Malfoy dipped Tom's plucked hair into the concoction and smiled wickedly at his hostage. "This will be fun," he said, before drinking the Polyjuice.

Tom watched in horror as Malfoy's pristinely blonde locks turned his own shade of dark brown, as his icily cold blue eyes transformed into Tom's midnight black ones. In a matter of agonizingly long seconds, Tom felt as though he was looking into a mirror.

"You aren't going to hurt Hermione!" he declared determinedly as Malfoy began strutting out of the closet. He heard Malfoy's cold laugh.

"Have fun, Persia," were his parting words as he closed the door behind him.

Tom looked back at Persia with his most intimidating eyes. "When I get out of this situation, Black, you and your little Malfoy playtoy are going to be the first ones I set out to hunt."

The fear in Persia's eyes as she slowed her pace satisfied Tom just enough to think _rationally_ of a way out.

* * *

_**Hermione's POV**_

_I can't believe it. I solved it. I know who murdered Joe! _Those three sentences echoed throughout Hermione's happy mind the entire walk from the library to the Great Hall where she was to eat lunch. She held the proof in her hands. While she was still slightly disbelieving at both the culprit and her own detective skills, she couldn't keep the smile off of her face. She could only imagine Tom's reaction when he found out who had murdered Joe Shmoe.

Lunch was savored by Hermione, who was enjoying every juicy taste presented to her. Her stomach was singing to her all through her research period, begging to be fed, and she was quite pleased at the feast she was eating presently. She looked up mid-meal and scanned the crowd. Why hadn't Tom come up to her and say hi, or even sit with her? Her ambers met his darks, and she smiled. She was greeted with a smile in return and a wink.

_Odd_, she thought as she watched him motion to the door leading to the meadow. _He's never winked to me before. Is he being suggestive?_

She pointed to her meal, indicating that she would meet him after she finished her food. He nodded and got up. Her eyes followed his every move as he exited the Great Hall, and suddenly she was no longer hungry. She was too eager to tell him of her discoveries.

Hermione pushed her plate aside and followed Tom's tracks to the door. When she met him outside, she found him pleasantly sitting on a stone bench by the lake. She smiled at the sight of Tom Riddle sitting calmly underneath sunlight.

"Hey," she whispered into his ear when she was directly behind him. She felt him shiver and smiled satisfyingly.

"Hey baby," he said, slightly uncharacteristically. Hermione idly furrowed her brow, wondering why he was acting a bit different. Pushing it away, she wrapped her arms around him, feeling content in his touch.

It didn't last long, however, as Tom leaned his head down and kissed her. Hermione pulled away quickly; Tom's kiss was not normal. It was definitely more aggressive and lustful, as though he had been dying to do that for _ages_. It was also wetter, which was something Tom did not usually attempt. She looked up at him, with her eyes questioning his actions.

* * *

_**Malfoy's POV**_

Abraxas had to think fast. Apparently, as stupid as it seemed to him, Tom didn't like to go forceful and wet on Skylar. He looked down at her, straight into those brown eyes that oddly had him captivated, and smiled reassuringly. He saw relief flood in those eyes and he almost, _almost_, felt guilty for his lie.

"Come, I want to show you something," he said as huskily as he could manage. He took hold of her hand and led her through the many bushes and trees to the very same alcove that Tom had once brewed immortality potions in.

"Wow, what is this place, Tom?" she asked in awe, looking around the place amazed.

"It's where I go when I want some alone time," Abraxas answered, immediately conjuring up a blanket. Together, they lay down on the blanket and sat intertwined in each other's arms.

Abraxas soon grew tired of this, however, and he wanted some action. Catching Skylar completely by surprise, he leant over so that he was on top of her and kissed her, more gently and passionately this time.

_This is heaven_, Abraxas thought as he tasted her sweet tongue dancing together with his own. He could now honestly say that he knew why Tom liked Skylar so much. She was beautiful, feisty, and, of course, a fantastic kisser.

Abraxas decided to venture further and he stroked a hand up her shirt. Skylar instantly broke the kiss.

"I — I don't know if I'm ready, Tom," she said, slightly shakily. "I'm still slightly shaken at what those Slytherin bastards did to me…"

"I'll be gentle," Abraxas falsely promised. "Besides, that was months ago, baby. It's me. We love each other. Don't you want your first time to be with someone you love?"

"Of course I do," Skylar said, her voice a tad bit risen. "But I thought we agreed not to pressure the other into doing something we don't want to do?"

Abraxas was growing very impatient. "Come on, baby, it's me. I'll be gentle. What more do you want?"

* * *

_**Overall POV**_

"Oh, so that's what this is about?" Hermione asked hotly, rising from the blanket with her hands on her hips. "You only claimed you love me so you could get some ass?"

"My god, baby!" Abraxas all but yelled in her face as he made the blanket disappear with a snap of his fingers. "We're in love! I promised to be gentle! I don't see what the problem is here!"

"The problem," she began with tears in her eyes, "is that I am not _ready_ to go all the way yet! Goodness gracious, Tom, we promised not to put pressure on the other! What happened to our promises? What happened to our agreements? Our relationship is not going to be purely based on sex!"

"It isn't!" Abraxas insisted angrily. "I'm only saying that I think it's time for that step now!"

"Time? _Time_? It hasn't been more than a few days, and already you think we should have sex? What the hell is wrong with you, Tom? If you loved me, you'd be willing to wait!"

Abraxas threw his hands into the air in exasperation. He couldn't understand why she was being so difficult. He knew girls that would sleep with him just by looking at him, and yet she was insisting that she wasn't ready for 'that next big step'?

"You know what?" Abraxas asked rhetorically. "Screw this." He grabbed Hermione roughly and kissed her with extreme vigor. Her tongue clashed ungracefully with his as he nibbled her bottom lip less-than-gently. He felt Hermione's surprised protest and smirked onto her lips with satisfaction.

She pulled away and looked at him with scandalous eyes. "I never want anything to do with you ever again, Tom Marvolo Riddle!"

Abraxas could only watch her run away, half with a cold satisfaction at ruining the hottest couple's relationship and half with an angry disappointment at the lack of action, while the hair on his head slowly evolved into a bright blond shade.

* * *

_**Tom's POV **_

_I can't let him hurt Hermione, I can't let him hurt Hermione_, Tom chanted endlessly in his head as Persia's hands never-endingly groped his body.

"Get off of me, woman, or I swear to the God in heaven that I will hex you so hard that you won't even be able to blink!" he threatened as her moans became nearly unbearable.

"Stop bluffing and moan for me," she replied airily.

Tom yelled in frustration. How could he save Hermione? Lord knows what Abraxas had planned for her, and Tom knew that no matter what it was, he had to stop it. But with the bitch Persia all over him, he couldn't concentrate on formulating a plan.

Suddenly, as though a lightbulb went off in his head, Tom realized that he had to disregard what Persia was doing to him and perform wandless magic to body-bind her.

_Must body bind Persia. Petrificus Totalus. Petrificus Totalus. Petrificus Totalus._

It seemed like a million tries before Persia fell to the floor rigidly, looking up at Tom with laughably confused eyes. Tom's face transformed into a furiously murderous glare. He was extremely pissed off at the situation at hand.

He glanced down at the pathetic woman on the floor and sneered at her. "After I find Hermione, you and Abraxas Malfoy will pay in the deepest of ways." He watched as Persia's makeup-filled face contorted into terror as she lay rigid on the ground. Tom smirked with satisfaction — he hadn't had that wonderful feeling of power in a long time.

While he wished he could have inhaled that feeling more thoroughly, Tom knew he had to find Hermione and fast — Lord only knew what Abraxas had done to her, and the damage it would most definitely cause.

* * *

Goodness gracious! There are no words of sorry large enough to say how bad I feel for this large gap in updates! Over a month, I think? Hmm. Either way, I will make up no excuses except for the few things I must say: Finals. Homework. Boyfriend (and breaking up with him). Graduation soon. Projects. I'm sorry, dear readers, but your good ol' Cheez It really does have a life (and an actual name! haha) I am determined to finish this story though, having maybe only three, four chapters left, and hopefully before August. Not sure. Anyhow, please review! I love you all so much, and again, sorry!

**THIS POEM WAS WRITTEN BY ME. ABSOLUTELY NO STEALING, COPYING, ALTERING, PLAGIRIZING, or PUBLICATING (excetera) IN ANY WAY, SHAPEOR FORM. THANK YOU.**


	21. Twenty: An Ultimate Decision

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**the Almighty Cheez It**

**Words this Chapter: **_3,913

* * *

_

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

An Ultimate Decision

* * *

Hermione couldn't believe the encounter that had just happened. The natural Hermione, the feisty, logical part of her (which was the one part of her that remained in connection with her past) tried to think of a rational explanation for Tom's behavior. However, she could find none, as she knew that there was no excuse for what he had done, and tried to do. She was just utterly confused about his intentions – it was not a Tom-like thing at all.

Hermione was still furious despite her confusion, of course. While she was unable to think of any reason for Tom's actions, she was completely revolted and angry at everything that had just happened. How had their relationship, very short yet very strong as well, quickly turn into something he seemed to think was physical? She was not at all ready for that kind of stepping stone, especially not with all the emotional turmoil she felt while she was trapped in the forties.

Hermione's vision was ultimately blurred with angry and distressed sobs, so it was more of a blind run as she meandered through the castle, trying to find somewhere – anywhere – to go. She had to get as far away from Tom as she could, but she had no idea where to go, especially with her sight as unclear as it was.

She strongly considered the Room of Requirement, which had, of course, always been an ideal place to wallow in her thoughts or just relax where nobody could find her. However, she was in no mood to run up many a staircase just to shrink in self-pity and hate for the person –_ creature_ – she had thought she changed. This also crossed out the option of sinking into bed in her own chambers, or taking a fresh visit to the Astronomy Tower. Aside from the unappealing distance, she did not like the thought of meeting a ton of students, just to have them take one look at her current distraught state and go spreading rumors.

So Hermione continued her aimless running, not having a stable destination. She didn't care. All she could think about were memories – strong memories of her entire life.

She was four, and was starting Muggle kindergarten. She was sitting next to a girl named Kelly Greene. She turned, and said hi to Kelly. Kelly took one look at her scholarly outfit; the too-large-for-a-four-year-old book clutched in her hand, and said, "I don't talk to losers." Hermione's heart sank as the rest of the class laughed.

She was seven, and the boy across the street took her favorite book and threw it in the lake. She had stared at Aaron McKinley, teary-eyed, and asked him why he did that. "Because you're a stupid little book-loving nerd," he had answered with a sneer, before he ran away in giggles.

She was ten, and she was huddled in the corner of the classroom as a storm raged on outside. "Hermione's a chicken!" the other kids would tease as they jumped out from behind a desk to scare her. "Hermione's scared of everything! BOO!" Hermione had cried until the teacher came to ward off the offending kids.

She was thirteen, a good two years after she had made friends, but they were no longer with her as she sat alone in the corner with her time-turner. She was just about to twist it a few times when Draco Malfoy of all people came parading down the hallway. He saw her time-turner, with wide eyes, and threatened to hex her if she didn't let him play with it. Ten minutes later, she left the hallway with stinging bruises.

She was sixteen, battling many Death Eaters over twice her size in the Hogwarts hallways. She thought with a shudder about the extreme possibility that all of her friends could be dead. She survived the night relatively unharmed, but the scar that remained in her memory would never leave.

She was seventeen, fighting in the Final Battle. She was seventeen, being sent back in time. She was seventeen, having been super close to rape by men old enough to be her grandfather, even though their appearance didn't show that. She was seventeen; fighting Grindelwald and watching Harry go back to her home. She was seventeen; falling in love with Tom Riddle –

Her mind stopped there, as she no longer wanted to think of Tom. _Here I am, with my thoughts looping back to him_, she thought bitterly, as she continued to run to nowhere. Her legs hurt, they stung with tire, but she didn't stop. She had to get away. She couldn't take it anymore.

She found an open door and rushed inside, despite the fact that she didn't know where she was. Luckily for her, there was not a person in sight, and so she shut the door and let out a derisive scream. Would life ever give her a break? Why did she have to be tested so?

She crumpled into the corner, knees to her face, arms around them. Her face, red and tearstained, was warm and vulnerable. Hermione had had enough.

_I'm done_, she thought seriously, choking on sobs still. _I am done with all of this bullshit._

"I'M DONE!"

Hermione stood as abruptly as she had sat down. She grabbed a book she saw from a shelf nearby and threw it at the wall, satisfied with the _pang_ it made. "I've had it. I'm going home."

Hermione let that last thought take over as she left the unknown room, making her way toward the Transfiguration classroom.

* * *

Tom was in a panic. He had looked far and wide for Hermione, desperate to tell her what had happened; that whatever had happened to her was done by Abraxas and that he would never hurt her. Not after all he had already done in her life.

He set about to thinking. If he had never been such a pessimist, if he had learned to deal with life's cruelties instead of creating some of his own, Hermione could have been a normal witch. She could have lived life with parents, best friends, and peers. She could have been spared from experiencing war and death of those she loved. Tom could have saved the woman he loved.

But now, it was too late. Even if he did decide to change away from becoming Voldemort, Hermione's past was still there. She would still have to live with the memories, whether they occurred in the new future or not. Tom's guilt trip would never end.

He glanced out of a nearby window and noticed how dark it was. Had he really searched for her all day? It wasn't nearly as dark when he had first started looking for her. Suddenly, he had a horrible thought: What if she was still with Malfoy? He could be doing anything to her; he hated her! He could be raping her – Tom shuddered – or even performing the Cruciatus on her! Of course, Tom knew she would be able to defend herself, but the thought was still sickening.

After the basic panic wore away and he gained some of his logic back, Tom realized that the Polyjuice Potion's effects only lasted an hour and that Malfoy's ulterior motive would to brainwash Hermione's mind into thinking that whatever was going on was being done by Tom, so he wouldn't risk the Polyjuice wearing off.

Still, while that calmed Tom a bit, it still meant that Hermione had been wandering the castle for hours, while Tom was trailing off, looking for her. He wanted more than anything to find that large mane of bushy hair…

* * *

_Knock. Knock._

"Excuse me," a voice could be heard saying through the door before it opened to reveal an auburn-haired Dumbledore that she was now used to seeing. He looked like he was slightly expecting her arrival, which Hermione knew she shouldn't have been surprised about. That man literally knew…everything.

"Professor?" she asked confidently, not even nervous about her decision. Dumbledore opened the door wider, stepping aside so Hermione could walk through the archway.

"To what do I owe this lovely encounter?" he asked in that pleasant Dumbledore voice. Hermione's eyes watered slightly; it had been so long since she'd seen him, and now after only a few months in his presence, she would have to leave him again.

Hermione glanced around the room and noticed that they were not alone. Professor Slughorn, who looked a little affronted that he was being ignored, was sitting in a large chair near Dumbledore's desk. She scoffed at him, never quite forgiving his little tirade about Muggle-born inequality.

"I was wondering if we could speak _alone_," she stressed, not even bothering to look at Slughorn. "This is of the utmost importance."

Dumbledore's twinkle in that crystal blue eye shifted a bit, but he nodded all the same, seeming to realize that the topic of discussion had to do with the future.

"Horace," he said softly, turning to the Potions Master, "May I have a word with Miss Broston?"

Hermione had forgotten that she was still referred to as Skylar Broston, and watched while wheels turned in Slughorn's head, most likely wondering why he was being ditched for a student.

"Albus," Slughorn tried to argue, "We were talking about very imperative things, I don't know if I'll have the time to reschedule this meeting, that quill supply needs attending to…"

"Listen, Slughorn," Hermione butted in, not hearing Dumbledore's sigh. Slughorn turned to her, dislike written clearly across his face. "I have to talk to Professor Dumbledore, whether you like it or not. I'm sorry to say it to your pudgy little face, but he values what I have to tell him more than something about a stupid quill. So why don't you take your bulging stomach and leave the room before I get angry?"

Slughorn's mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish. "I – you – complete disrespect –"

However, he angrily shoved his body out of the doorway, briskly saying, "Some other time, Albus" as he left.

Dumbledore looked at the raging teenager in front him, knowing that "teenager" was one of the most inaccurate words to describe her. She was a teenager by age, yes, but her mind, body, and soul were completely beyond her years. He saw himself in this young girl.

"That was not necessary," he began, noticing how Hermione's eyes moved to the floor. "I could have easily removed Horace from my classroom without the degrading words."

"I was upset," she responded lightly. "In fact, I still am. Professor, I've had – I want – I'm done with this. I want to go home. I've had enough, and I'm leaving."

Dumbledore, for the first time ever, looked extremely shocked. "You want to leave this time," he clarified, "and resume life in your own?"

"That's exactly what I want," she confirmed. "If Tom Riddle is man enough to keep his stupid promise to me, he won't become Voldemort, and I'll have all of my friends back." The bitterness in her tone, mixed with sadness, was not missed by Dumbledore, and he walked over her and pulled her into a grandfather-to-granddaughter hug.

"It will all be all right, Hermione," he said wisely. "Whatever happens when you get back was meant to happen. Everything happens for a reason."

"Yeah, I've heard _that_ before," she responded angrily.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "we do, in fact, have a way for you to get home. It's very complicated, but it gets the job done."

"Oh?"

"Yes," he said. He gestured for her to stand right in front of his fireplace. Confused, she did so. "Listen to me, Hermione. This is vital."

Hermione nodded, her leg idly kicking the rug beneath her feet. She looked up at him and waited as he pulled out a thick and old-looking book. She distinctly saw _Olde Magick of the Darkest Times _engraved on the front.

"This book was from Rowena Ravenclaw's own library." Hermione's jaw dropped. "Yes, I'm telling the truth. In fact, Salazar Slytherin himself wrote an inscription inside of this book. It does, in fact, date beyond the founders of Hogwarts, though they updated it with wizened words of their own.

"Let me read Salazar's passage to you:

_Time. Time is indeed a tricky element. Seconds, minutes, hours. Days, weeks, years. It is all the same as far as Time is concerned. Time has no feelings, only limits. There have always, and will continue to always be, moments where Time would cut our opportunities off. Yes, Time is a tricky element._

_Recently, my own friend Esther Borheg found a way to mess with the ways of Time. This practice that she has created was named Time Traveling. I would call this a pretty accurate name, for meddling with the course of time by switching through time periods would be considered as traveling, as journeying or voyaging. More to the point, Esther noted that there multiple ways to travel through Time. see Gordon Turner's inscription, page 317._

_There are dangerous consequences about messing with Time, which anyone hoping to participate in this activity should know. That is also in Gordon Turner's passage, but while I am here right now, let me share with you something that no other researcher about this topic has been able to discover. When one travels through Time, ruining the course of the past or future, one is stuck there, unable to return. I have found a way against this._"

Dumbledore stopped reading there, watching Hermione closely to see her reaction. Her eyes looked slightly bigger, and her face was pale. "What – how do I get back home?" she asked in a small voice. "What did Slytherin discover?"

"My child," Dumbledore said importantly, "you will find that out in but a moment, though for right now, I have a favor to ask you.

"When you return, go straight to my office. If Mr. Riddle has indeed kept his promise to you, I will be there, with this book, prepared to give it to you. If I am for some reason unavailable, in the case of death or other, I want you to go to my office and retrieve this book from its shelter."

Hermione registered this information. "Sir," she began, "Why do you want me to have this book?"

"It will become very handy later in your life," he replied cryptically.

Hermione nodded, still unsure. "And, professor, I don't know what the password to your office will be when I get home…"

"Right!" Dumbledore said loudly. "I've always had a way with those gargoyles, you know," he said as a side note. Hermione couldn't help but giggle; this was the Dumbledore she knew. "I always told them…see, when I become Headmaster after Dippet retires, I plan on naming my passwords after candy…though, you would probably already know that. Anyway, I have talked to them before, Randy and Albert are nice fellows…and I told them that if ever anyone said the phrase, 'Under immediate and dire circumstances, I demand entrance to this office,' whether it was my password or not, to let them in."

Hermione rolled all of this information into her head. The gargoyles that guarded the Headmaster's quarters were named Randy and Albert, and he had a specific phrase to gain anyone entrance. Yes, Albus Dumbledore was a strange man.

"But sir," she said after her giggles subsided, "Where is the book hidden?"

"I plan to hide it…" his voice trailed off and Hermione had to strain to hear, but she got the message.

"I will get it, professor. Thank you." Hermione turned away for a moment, now slightly unsure if she really wanted to leave the past. She had grown so accustomed to this time; what would going home be like?

"Hermione…" Dumbledore started in a soothing voice, seemingly reading her mind like he so often did. "Are you ready, dear?"

Hermione looked back at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I just began being happy again," she said softly. "After my entire life of unhappiness, I finally found what I had been waiting for." Her eyes sought the window, where she looked outside into the gloomy-gray sky. "After Ron died, I didn't ever think I'd be able to love again. And…I did…

"Professor," she immediately changed the subject as she looked up into his blue eyes, "I want you to do whatever it takes to get me back into my own time. I have had enough of Tom Riddle."

Dumbledore looked at her, sadness written all over his old face. "Very well," he said regretfully, flipping through pages of _Olde Magick of the Darkest Times_. "Step by the fireplace, dear, and close your eyes."

Hermione did as she was told, curious, scared, and eager all at once. She would be able to escape Tom Riddle, once and for all! Her heart broke, but she was still extremely upset with him. She had had enough of 1944.

"Imagine your past, the exact position you left it in," Dumbledore's voice said.

Hermione, while not too happy to have to relive the Final Battle night again, tried to gather every last detail about the scene she had left 1997 in. The people in the dormitory and where they were; what Voldemort was doing; who was dead…

"When you have done that, whisper the words, _Arctateus Manou Futura_."

"Arctateus Manou Futura," Hermione whispered.

"Repeat that, only louder…" Dumbledore instructed.

"Arctateus Manou Futura," she repeated in her normal speaking voice.

"Repeat it once more, in as loud a voice as you can manage," Dumbledore urged, now looking away from the book and right at Hermione.

"Arctateus Manou Futura!" she yelled, and felt an extreme sensation. Dumbledore was flying in and out of sight and she felt as though she were floating and being spun in wide circles. The last thing she saw before blacking out was the door to Dumbledore's classroom opening and someone with beautiful wavy dark hair came hurtling in.

* * *

Tom was extremely tired, but he would not stop searching for Hermione until he found her. He was still completely clueless at where she could be. He contemplated going back to the Slytherin common room to interrogate Malfoy, but figured that no good would come out of the encounter.

He was starting to get very frustrated, and even more worried. What if Malfoy had killed her? _Okay, get it together_, Tom thought unhelpfully. _He would not even attempt that after all the fuss on Shmoe_. Speaking of Joe, Tom wondered if Hermione had cracked the case. That was something he would just have to ask her…once he found her.

Tom completely skipped dinner in his serious search for his girlfriend, and it was starting to reflect on him. His stomach was churning, begging for food, but Tom would not nourish or rest until he found her. He was at a loss of what to do; he had been searching for hours, and as each hour passed, his hope lessened.

Suddenly, a thought struck him. Who did Hermione trust beyond anybody, other than Harry? _Dumbledore_. If she was anywhere, it was probably with Dumbledore, retelling her side of the Malfoy event to him. After all, she had nobody else to turn to in such a distraught state, after all, since she thought it was all Tom's fault.

Tom was berating himself for not realizing this hours sooner, but didn't let it get to him as he sprinted to Dumbledore's office. He avoided teachers and maneuvered around curious students, begging his legs to take him to his needed destination. This was urgent. He had to get to her, before she did something drastic.

"Move!" he found himself yelling when someone happened to be passing by Dumbledore's classroom door. Tom shoved the girl and reached for the doorknob.

The door opened easily, and Tom felt a distinct _whoosh_ as he stepped in. Dumbledore was looking at the spot near the fireplace, so he figured someone had just Flooed away. Dumbledore heard someone enter, and turned to Tom, and looked extremely confused; an expression that Tom could tell was not usually on his face.

"Mr. Riddle?" inquired Dumbledore, motioning Tom to sit, but he didn't. His eyes flashed around the room at an admirable pace, looking around every nook and cranny.

"Where is she?" he asked quietly, his hope vanishing fast. "She's not anywhere in the castle. Where is she?"

Dumbledore looked as though some major wheels were turning in his head. "Mr. Riddle, I must ask you something, and it is of the most importance."

"Go," Tom said impatiently, not looking at Dumbledore, though his eyes were still searching the room frantically, as though thinking Hermione would pop out of nowhere.

"Were you…by any chance…with Hermione sometime after lunch today?" Dumbledore asked cautiously, though he thought he already knew the answer.

"No!" Tom all but yelled. "That bastard Malfoy trapped me in a fucking closet with that slut Persia Black! And I don't know what happened after that, but Malfoy used Polyjuice Potion to look like me and he did something to Hermione! I need to know where she is, Dumbledore! I need to know what he did to her! I have to tell Hermione that it was all Malfoy; that I love her and would never hurt her! WHERE IS SHE?"

Realization dawned on Dumbledore, and regret washed over his face. Very slowly, he walked over to the enraged Tom Riddle and patted his shoulder, a gesture he never would have attempted before Harry and Hermione's arrival. He looked through his half-moon spectacles down at the boy who had finally found happiness in his life of remorse, and spoke slowly, in a tired, repentant voice.

"Mr. Riddle…" Dumbledore, for the first time in his life, did not know what to say. He had no words. "Tom," he decided on, capturing the boy's attention, "As you predicted, Hermione was under the impression that you were the one who attacked her, and not Mr. Malfoy."

"Attacked? What did he do to her?" Tom demanded in a panic. Dumbledore held up a hand.

"My boy, she did not reveal details of the day to me. Now, let me continue, please." Tom looked reluctant, but he didn't say any more. "She thought, of course, that Malfoy was you, because of the potion. She came to me, claiming to have 'had enough'." Dumbledore paused, not wanting to inform Tom of the next event.

"Well, what happened?" Tom asked impatiently.

Dumbledore sighed. "My dear boy," he said, looking away, "Hermione has returned to her time."

Tom's heart shattered. "What?" he asked incredulously. "No…no…"

She couldn't have left him. Not right when he fell in love. It was impossible. It was preposterous. No…

He looked up at Dumbledore, who was looking down at him gravely and sadly.

"I'm sorry, Tom," he said kindly.

"NO!" Tom screeched, jumping up from the chair he was sitting in. "No…"

She was his reason for becoming someone other than a monster. She taught him things that no book ever could. He had done so much with her, and now she was gone. Tom was unable to believe it. He hesitantly made a decision that would affect not only his life, but many others' as well.

Tom left Dumbledore's office abruptly, and Dumbledore immediately knew what he had done. He had just ultimately, in that ten minute conversation with Tom Riddle, created the monster that would someday ruin Hermione's life. He had turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort.

* * *

W00t! Sorry for the wait, everyone, but I hope this makes up for it. It's not my best, but meh. Please review! 


	22. Twenty One: 1998

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**the Almighty Cheez It**

**Words this Chapter: **_2,811_

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

1998

Hermione felt a sensation that she hadn't felt in months. A jabbing rope was bound around her small figure, almost suffocating her with its tight grip. She refused to open her eyes, for she knew she'd be blinded with an unbearably bright light, because she recognized this feeling as what she had felt the night she arrived in 1944. The pain, equal to that of the Cruciatus curse, was burning and scorching. She was spinning around in the air, feeling her bones being stung with long, sharp knives and her heart being ripped by blood-sucking, long-nailed fingers. Although the pain was momentary, it hurt too much to be ignored.

And then, sudden as it came, the feeling stopped. She was no longer spinning, but laying face-up on a hard floor. She opened her eyes and scanned the scene; it was amazing. Time seemed to stop, for though she recognized the area around her, there was no motion. Not a word was said, not a limb was moved, not an eye was blinked. She was literally frozen in time.

The second she moved a muscle to gain a sitting position, however, the people around her began to move, as time was no longer stopped. She looked on with wide eyes.

Here she was, in the middle of a scene she knew all too well. It hadn't changed, like she had so strongly hoped. No, she was still in the middle of the Final Battle.

Curses were flying, screams were emitting, and bodies were dropping. Both on the Dark side and the Light, people were being lost and hurt. Tears dripped from Hermione's eyelids just knowing that her entire stay in the past had been fruitless. She had done nothing to affect Tom Riddle's life, apparently, because here she was, witnessing the same event that he had promised her he'd never cause. And the man himself was standing right in the middle of it all, in all his glorious snake-like form, staring straight at her.

She stared back, and the scene around them seemed to float away as her chocolate eyes blended with his once-midnight-now-red ones. She had stared into those eyes many times, firstly with loathing, until the feeling slowly evolved into one of affection, and then to the largest of all…love. However, it was different now. Now, she was not staring into those same eyes that captivated her heart. She was staring into the eyes of a liar, a monster.

"I loved you," Hermione said softly. Those three words, being as powerful as they were, captured the attention of not only Voldemort himself, but the rest of the room. Eyes drifted to her, confusion evident on their faces. Harry, who was standing in front of Voldemort, looked at her with half-hearted understanding. He had been with her during their voyage to the past, and he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop the relationship that had grown between his best friend and his worst enemy.

Voldemort didn't say anything to her, but he glided gracefully about the seventh year boys' dormitory, making his way so that he was only inches in front of the woman he had once loved. He knew, from experience, that she was not even close to finishing what she had to say, so he let her continue.

"What happened?" she asked sadly, looking into his eyes fearlessly. He knew that she did not and would not ever fear him. He also saw the look of fondness in her eyes that quickly turned to betrayal. She still loved him, as he still loved her.

"You promised me…" she mumbled, ignoring the confusion that surged through every occupant in the room, other than Harry Potter. The Death Eaters and Order alike were not even daring to move, both too busy watching the exchange between Hermione and Voldemort. It was unlike anything they had ever seen. Hermione's voice floated through the room, even echoing through the corpses on the floor.

"You promised me that you wouldn't do this," she continued in her soft, creamy voice, gesturing to the room around her. Her eyes lingered on Ron, her former fiancé, as she looked through all the dead bodies. She still loved him, yes, but Tom had given her something more than whatever she wanted, like Ron; he had given her a challenge. And for that, her heart opened up more to the pre-Voldemort.

She next looked at Lupin, another close friend of hers. Her eyes held sorrow and regret; she wished she could have done more to prevent all of this. To prevent the death of those who had only lived through pain. Her eyes cast over every single member of the Order, or close friend, that was dropped on the floor, pale and unmoving.

However, she did not fail to acknowledge those of the other side that were fallen as well. Bellatrix, one that she herself had killed, lay there, cold and desolate. Hermione felt her heart swell; she had killed a human being. She mouthed a small 'I'm sorry' to the witch in front of her, before looking back at the future form of her boyfriend.

"Why, Tom?" she asked despairingly, begging for him to explain the meaning of all this. "Why did you turn it physical so fast? You knew I wasn't ready!"

"That was Abraxas Malfoy!" Voldemort yelled out in his eerie voice, the one much different from his teenage self. Hermione flinched, for she was not used to this voice after hearing whispered nothings from his 1944 form, but she stared him straight in the eye.

"What?"

"IT WAS MALFOY, THAT SON OF A BITCH!" Voldemort screamed again. It was finally time to reveal everything to her. After what was, for him, more than fifty years of regret, heartache, and sorrow, he was finally able to tell Hermione the truth.

"That bastard locked me in a closet with the Slytherin slut and drank a Polyjuice Potion to look like me! I don't know what he did to you…but I searched for you the WHOLE day! I wanted to kill that asshole, Hermione! I wanted to make him pay for whatever the hell it was that he had done to you! I never wanted to pressure you into doing things you didn't want to do! I loved you! I searched for SEVEN HOURS STRAIGHT looking around the castle just to see that beautiful brown hair of yours! And you know what, Hermione? YOU KNOW WHAT? The second I got to Dumbledore's office, you had left! You had come back here because you thought I tried to have sex with you! IT WASN'T ME! I loved you too much to do that! And damn it all to hell! I _still_ love you!"

Voldemort swept over to Hermione in one skillful motion, staring at her with an intensity he had never used before. He studied her every curve and mark; he hadn't seen her in over fifty years. Ah yes, looking before her, he remembered how her part was always _slightly_ zigzagged. Yes, he remembered how she had that cute little freckle by her nose. He remembered all the little things that he relished in with welcome. He looked her in the eyes yet again and whispered, "I _still _love you."

His lips, those cold, thin, lips met her juicily warm and soft ones in a kiss unlike any other they had ever shared. For her, it had been hours since she had kissed him, but for him, it had been a lifetime, and both acted as though it had been their first. The passion that encircled the two of them was breathtaking. Love that had been stored away was renewed. That kiss, where arms found bodies to surround themselves around, was fiery and full of craving. It was full moments before either of them pulled away, and when they did, they were out of breath.

"It was Malfoy," Voldemort repeated desperately, frantic for Hermione to understand that he loved her too much to ever want anything from her that she didn't want to give.

She looked at him, those beautiful brown eyes that had captured his heart, and said in her lovely, lacy voice, "It was Malfoy."

Voldemort felt happy for the first time in over fifty years. He felt like his teenage self at the times where he was with Hermione. He could remember every moment vividly in his utter relief that she believed him.

"I'm so sorry, Tom," she said as she closed her eyes, moving closer to him. "I can't believe I left you."

"You're here now," he said, stroking her hair with his long, bony fingers. "It's been more than half a century, but you're here now, and that's what matters."

"I've missed you," she said, her voice muffled in his chest. "I know that, for me, it's only been a day or so, but I've missed you like hell."

"Oh, my dear, I've missed you as well…" he said in response, looking at her soft brown curls in complete adoration. "I thought I would never see you again. I was unaware of the time-travel rules."

There was a pregnant silence in the air, as the Light and Dark sides struggled to understand the situation. Though there were not many left, and all were unalike in aspiration, they were unified in their confusion.

"Why?" Hermione asked finally, stepping away from Voldemort and looking toward her shoes. Voldemort didn't need to know the question; he already had the answer.

Still, he had enough nerve to ask, "Why what?" He was Lord Voldemort, after all.

"Why did you break your promise?" she asked stiffly, looking at his tall, snake-like body and still seeing seventeen-year-old Tom Riddle in his place.

"Because you broke yours," he managed to say, the large lump in his throat only increasing. He did not want to discuss this with her.

"Excuse me?" she asked him, completely befuddled.

"You promised me that you would never leave me," he answered steadily, reaching out for her soft hand. "And yet, you were gone by the time I reached Dumbledore's office."

"You said you would do anything you could to prevent _this_ from happening to me!" she screamed, snatching her hand away and suddenly extremely angry at him.

"I kept you safe!" he countered. "There were so many times where you could have died, little girl!" he boomed in his anger.

Hermione's face went an ugly shade of red before turning pale again. "I am not a little girl, Tom. Don't ever mistake me for one."

Voldemort smiled his wickedly sick smile, the one that held no humor in it. "My dear Hermione, I would never." He reached out to touch her, but she jumped back in disgust.

"Don't avoid the question, Tom," she said evenly. "Why did you break your promise to me? Don't give me any bullshit, okay? I want the truth."

Voldemort inhaled a breath, his smile gone. He knew, from the moment he noticed her return, that this moment would come, but he only wished he could have stalled it longer. The truth, as she wanted, was really that he didn't know why he became Voldemort. He saw the damage he would do, and wanted nothing more than to prevent it from happening. Yet, he decided while he was still distraught from Hermione's disappearance that he would become the thing he didn't want to be. It was, to him, the _easy_ way out.

"I don't know the truth, Hermione," he managed after a painstaking pause full of tension and pressure. "When you left, I was so damn confused! I was also two inches away from murdering Malfoy," he added, in attempt to bring a lighter note to the conversation. It didn't work. "You were the one who changed me!" He let out a growl of frustration, letting the words he wanted to say for fifty years pour out of his mouth. "It was because of you that I became a better person! Hell, Hermione, I was disgusted with who I was going to become, who I am now!"

"Then why did you become it?" she yelled, her voice piercingly sharp and pained. She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears, and her face stained with some as well, and she remembered. She remembered her stolen moments with Tom Riddle, the times where he was the love of her life. The times where he was sweet and sensitive. The times where he wanted to change his life's course. "WHY DID YOU BECOME WHAT YOU WANTED TO PREVENT, DAMMIT?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" he screamed, his voice so high-pitched that Hermione recoiled. "Maybe because the girl that I loved, the girl that had CHANGED me decided to leave me forever! You didn't even give me a chance to explain!"

"I thought Malfoy was you!" she retorted exasperatedly. "After his attempt to frickin rape me, you think I was going to go back and talk to him — you — whatever — and try to resolve things?"

"THAT BASTARD," Voldemort exploded. "He tried to rape you TWICE! He ruined everything! If he hadn't…you'd still…I'd still…I wouldn't be…"

"I would have had to leave anyway, Tom," she whispered quietly as he tried to form a coherent sentence.

"I'd be – what?" His eyes darted to hers with shock. "What did you say?"

"There was no way I could have stayed there," she repeated. She was downcast and refused to look him in the eye. "It was impossible."

"Then it was impossible to prevent _this_ from happening, wasn't it?" he said calmly, though he was breathing in deep and uneven breaths. He gestured to his snakelike form, the thing he had become over time.

"Why?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. "Why couldn't you have just stayed Tom Riddle?"

"Because you left me." He turned around to face the window and fingered it with an idle motion. "Because I loved and lost. Because without you, I was nothing."

In all the anger radiating around the room, reverberating off of both Hermione and Voldemort, Harry watched the situation with eyes full of regret; he wished he had not left the past in such a bitter way. He had been angry with the relationship that was growing between the two; he knew about it before either of them did. He knew. He wished he had encouraged it. If he had left while giving Hermione his approval, things could have been different.

Harry looked at Voldemort, the man who had made things extremely hard on him. The man who he had once met before he became a monster. The man who had murdered everyone that Harry truly cared about (other than Hermione).

And as he looked at Voldemort, he saw an emotion in those sparkling scarlet eyes that he had never before seen. He saw sorrow, pain, regret, and love.

Harry knew that Voldemort still loved Hermione. The moment she appeared in their time, Voldemort noticed her. And Harry knew that after more than fifty years of being without the girl he loved, without a goodbye or a warning, the pain he felt must have been unbearable. Harry understood, right then and there, that Tom Marvolo Riddle, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort, had encountered more pain than Harry ever had in his life.

"Hell, Hermione," Voldemort's voice broke Harry out of his contemplative thoughts; "I'm still nothing." He gave a laugh that was eerie, chilling, and spine-tingling. "I have everything. I have control over the entire Wizarding world. If I wanted to, I could kill you all right now and dominate wizardkind. But with all that power, fame, and knowledge, I have nothing if I don't have you."

Hermione felt the tears streak down her cheeks in rapid paces. She couldn't hold it anymore; her heart was swelling. She was in love with the world's most powerful monster, and she didn't want him to die. Despite the fact that the world of the Light would probably end without his death, she wanted him to live, to stay with her.

"I love you," she sobbed in the most heartbreaking voice anybody in that boys' dormitory had ever heard.

"I love you so much, Hermione," Voldemort replied, walking over to her. Her hand, which was pushed out in front of her, prevented him from moving any further. However, he wanted nothing more than to hug her, to kiss away her tears.

"I love you more than anything and anyone, Tom," Hermione cried, shaking with tears. "Please forgive me for what I have to do. I'm sorry you have to be apart from me again, but just know that I love you."

And with that confusing statement that ejected from her mouth, Hermione whispered, bringing all her physical power into the two words, "Avada Kedavra."

And the bright, green light hit Voldemort directly in the chest.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

AUTHOR'S **VERY IMPORTANT** NOTE!

_THIS IS NOT THE END!_  
Don't worry!  
I will be writing another chapter. It may not be too long, but it's the last chapter. I was gonna combine it with this one to make it nice and long, but this is a perfect ending.

I hope this new chap. doesn't take FOREVER to complete again, but I'll start working on it soon.

Please review.

And yes, Voldemort was hit with the Killing Curse, in case you don't want to believe it. (Please remember that he is now mortal. Remember when Harry shot him with the Killing Curse in Chapter 1 or something? Yeah, that broke his final horcrux. So he's mortal, and shot with the Avada.) XD


	23. Twenty Two: Someday Sunny Skies

**Someday Sunny Skies**

_by _**the Almighty Cheez It**

**Words this Chapter: **_2,112

* * *

_

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

Someday Sunny Skies

* * *

Not a word was spoken. There was nothing to be said. Nobody could possibly fathom what to say. The situation was finally understood in their minds and they all felt incredibly helpless.

The Death Eaters stood, confused, about what to do. Going completely against the prophecy, goody-two-shoes Granger had just murdered their master, the most powerful man to ever walk in their lives. Yet they stood, numb and rooted to the spot, with no idea about how to react. They were frozen and clueless. Without Voldemort's orders, they had no dirty work to do. They had nobody to kill, nothing to avenge. They were, for the first time they had ever known, independent. They looked on at the scene, finally comprehending the whole situation, and were clueless as to what to do.

The Light Side, however, looked on with compassion etched into their features. They knew what true pain was like, and they understand that killing Voldemort was probably the hardest thing Hermione had ever done.

The girl herself was huddled on the floor, head locked in her arms, crying. She felt someone wrap their arms around her and, not even caring who the person was, she hugged them with all of her strength.

This was too much for her. Losing Ron had been terrible, especially when she was thrown into the past mere minutes afterward. Losing Tom, on the other hand, was beyond horrific. It was as though she had lost a part of herself. She truly knew what it must have felt like for him when she left him fifty years previous.

"Shh," said the voice that belonged to the arms around her. She instantly recognized it as Harry's. She leaned into him, completely entangled with him.

"He's gone," she whispered in the midst of her tears. "He's gone. He's not coming back! I lost him…"

And her words were as literal as they could be, for the oddest thing was happening. Voldemort's dead body was flashing, not in colors, but as though he was some sort of hologram. Apparently this revelation caught not only her attention, but that of the rest of the room as well. Eyes darted to the scene, the image before them so extraordinary and unheard of.

"He's disappearing!" one Death Eater yelled in a panic.

Hermione felt an odd sense of déjà vu, and rightly so, because this exact same event happened with Harry during his last few moments in the past. However, she assured herself that Voldemort was not disappearing into another time; no, it must be because of his immortality. Maybe people who used Horcruxes didn't get to keep their body after death?

The process was slow and almost unprogressive. Hermione's eyes were fixated on the body before her, for even though it was the 50-something-year-old version of her lover at her heels, she could still see the silhouette of the one she had come to know so well.

The flashing colorlessness of his body frightened her. She couldn't look away; his picture was too mesmerizing. She wanted desperately for the flashing to stop, but she wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or a bad one.

Her thumbs, along with more than one other part of her body, fidgeted in anxiety. She tried to occupy them by sticking them into her skirt pocket, when suddenly a thought struck her as they felt something small, hard, and book-like.

_Olde Magick of the Darkest Times._

Professor Dumbledore, her only true guide and mentor throughout her escapade in the past, had so urgently expressed his desire for her to find this book. Without knowing why, she suddenly felt obligated to leave Voldemort's motionless, flashing corpse and retrieve the book as Dumbledore so wished.

However, one glance back at Voldemort almost made her change her mind. Sure, this version of Tom was vile, cruel, and disturbing – but he was still some form of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and because of that, she could not bring herself to hate him.

"_It will become very handy later in your life," he replied cryptically. _

Dumbledore always knew what he was talking about. Whether or not Hermione knew the event where she would need this book was irrelevant. It would dishonor Dumbledore's memory if she went against a critical wish of his.

Hermione knew she would have to leave Voldemort's body – once and for all. She leant down next to it, and just stared at him through her hollow eyes. Those eyes had seen death, war, and pain, but nothing like the immense heartbreak that they saw at that moment. Because looking down at the man whose body she was hugging, she realized that nothing was more breathtaking than that.

She leaned in and kissed his cold, dead lips in a short but fiery kiss. Slowly but surely, she rose, never once removing her eyes from his lifeless ones as she exited the room backwardly.

His image haunted her mind the entire walk to Dumbledore's old office. She could see every centimeter of his face, every small, carved detail. Tears poured from her eyes, as they had done so many times before, from millions of different emotions.

She had left the past to be rid of Tom, but now that she was here, where there was nothing for her, she only wanted to be with him. She was not prepared to murder his future self, and yet, she did. She would never be able to live with herself, knowing that even though she had done the wizarding world a load of good, she had just killed a part of herself.

She was also struck by a pit of confusion; she had defied Harry Potter's – or Sybil Trelawney's, if you wanted to look at it that way – prophecy. She was not Harry, yet she had just killed the man that _he_ was destined to kill.

Either way, she was an extreme wreck by the time she landed in front of the gargoyles. She vaguely remembered Dumbledore mentioning that their names were Randy and Albert or something similar. She tried to laugh at his utter silliness, but she could not find the strength.

"Look, it's a lass!" the one on the right exclaimed unenthusiastically as he noticed Hermione.

This startled the other one, who looked at her in confusion and mumbled, "Sir Dumbledore hasn't been her in awhile, missy."

"I – I know," Hermione stumbled upon her words, at hearing Dumbledore's name spoken out loud. How could she have left him again? She missed him dearly. "Err, I need to get inside."

Suddenly the gargoyles got stern. "I'm sorry, lass. We never betray Dumbledore. Nobody may enter this office without the password."

Hermione looked them straight in the eyes, and said stiffly, "Under immediate and dire circumstances, I demand entrance to this office."

The eyes of the gargoyles bulged in amazement, but nonetheless, they let her inside. One of them called out behind her, as she entered, "Sir Dumbledore must really have confidence in you, missy. He only told one person about that phrase."

The door shut immediately after these words, and Hermione turned around to face the wall, in shock. Dumbledore only told _her_ about that alternate password? Tears almost soaked her face again, but she seemed to be numb, for there were no more tears to shed.

_I guess I've got to find this book_, she thought gloomily, realizing that her depression would never end. She seemed to be condemned to pain.

Hermione turned toward the cabinet that held the Pensieve. Dumbledore had told her that the book was hidden above the Pensieve, on the shelf inside the cabinet. She hoped that once she opened it, she wouldn't accidentally fall in.

She pulled out her wand to undo the lock on the cabinet's doors. "_Alohamora!_" she said, the spell feeling oddly homey to her. She heard a large _CLICK_ and the cabinet opened.

Her eyes fell immediately onto the Pensieve, where she was sure she could find some of Dumbledore's more gruesome memories. Oddly enough, she was sure she could find herself in more than a few of them.

Tearing her eyes away from the pot of memories, she looked above and found four books stacked neatly on a shelf. Not even bothering to wonder what the other three were about, she reached out to grab _Olde Magick of the Darkest Times_.

Hermione instantly backed away from the entire cabinet once she had her book in hand. She relocked the doors, hoping that nobody else would ever discover these private stores that belonged to her truest mentor.

* * *

As soon as she turned the corner, Hermione knew that she would never again meet with those gargoyles. Randy and Albert, she remembered. She didn't bother saying goodbye, because farewells depressed her.

As she turned onto a hallway that she knew so well but felt so foreign, she crashed into none other than Harry Potter.

"Is everyone alright?" she asked not a second later.

Harry nodded, a darkness floating in his eyes. "The Death Eaters have been either killed or 'disposed of' by the Order members, and all the students are in the Great Hall with the teachers."

"What about…the bodies?"

Harry knew she was referring to Ron. "They've been lined up with Hagrid, they're going to be buried this Sunday."

"Oh," was all she could say before she burst into tears. "Harry…"

"Hermione," he whispered, grabbing her and pulling her into a comforting hug. He didn't have to say anything, and neither did she, for both of them to understand.

"I'm a murderer!" she screeched, despair laced in her voice. "I killed Bellatrix, and then, hell, Harry, I KILLED VOLDEMORT! I killed the man I was in love with!"

"No, you didn't," Harry said soothingly, "you killed the man that he became."

This silenced her for a moment, before she countered back with, "Yes, but either way, I killed."

"Hermione," Harry said softly, looking at her with his pain-filled eyes, "Sacrifice wouldn't be sacrificial if it were easy. You did something for the good of everybody else, and somehow, you're going to be rewarded for that."

"You never were," she whispered, looking up at him. "You've done more than all of the wizards on this earth combined, and you never got your reward."

"I did," he argued, wiping her tears away. "I got you, and Ron. I got two of the best people in the entire universe as my two best friends. And that," he finished with a ghost of a smile, "is enough for everything."

Hermione let out another sob and, truly touched by what he said, pulled him tighter against her, never wanting to let go of her best friend.

"I miss him, Harry," Hermione said after a comfortable silence. They both knew that she wasn't talking about Ron. "I wish I hadn't left him…I wish…why couldn't I have done more? I could have made things different for you!"

"No," Harry reprimanded. "You tried. You tried your hardest to make him into someone new. And in the end, destiny did its job, and he made his choices to become what he is. It is never going to be your fault."

"He's right."

Hermione and Harry sprung apart, both recognizing that voice. Behind them stood Tom Marvolo Riddle, looking just as Hermione had left him.

There were no words that could emerge from Hermione's mouth, so Tom decided to take action and speak.

"When you killed me, I disappeared for exactly one hour. My body, I mean. Then I reappeared in the spot of the killing," he explained.

"See, when a person uses Horcruxes, things are different when they die. If it's from a natural cause, like old age, or disease, they are dead like any person that had never used Horcruxes. However, if the situation was from murder, the victim disappears for approximately one hour before returning, at the age of when they made their first Horcrux."

"So that means you're in your early twenties?" Harry breathed.

"Yes, I'm twenty-one," Tom replied, staring straight at Hermione.

Harry caught this and said, "Well, I'll just go to the Great Hall with everybody else and let them know you're all right, Hermione."

She could only nod, for her heart was thumping at seeing Tom again.

She squealed, no longer able to hold it in anymore, and jumped into his arms. He smiled, and they shared a kiss so unlike any of their others. There was more love, passion, and fire than ever.

"I love you, Hermione," Tom said, and he had never spoken a truer line in his life.

And finally, Hermione could tell that she would be seeing sunny skies again.

* * *

AHH!

Done!

**THIS IS THE END**!

Wow, this took forever!

See, I'm at home right now instead of at school because of this wildfire blowing ashes and smoke and stuff everywhere, so I figured that since I've got nothing better to do, I'd write. And now, THIS STORY IS OVER!

I really, REALLY, hope you liked it! Review?

Love, Cheez It


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